It Wasn't Just Once
by Tikal Tyrant
Summary: When his aunt and uncle have to stay a while, Butters is afraid to go to bed. Why does Kenny feel he's heard the name Uncle Bud before, and why does he even care? Rated for references to sexual abuse.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: It has been all too long since I've uploaded anything. The idea for this story comes in part from the episodes: Awesome-O and The Return of Chef, though you don't have to have seen these episodes in order to understand it. Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy this story, and just in time for the 200th episode! Woo-hoo! I'm so excited! Tune in Wednesday and be part of this historic event!

Warning: This story contains some pedophilic and incestuous themes. It is not intended to be pornographic or erotic, but rather to be an emotional look into the eyes of a molestation victim. If this kind of story is not for you, you know what to do. Also, I would love to hear some constructive criticism on this story, so if you have some pointers on how I can make it, or my writing in general, better, send me a word. Thank you.

**It Wasn't Just Once:**

**Ch:1**

The night had been warm and busy in Los Angeles that summer four years ago. Roads were lively, and a waning moon had barely been hidden by the thin, silk curtains which hung delicately between the window and the bed's headboard. Butters tucked himself deeper into the stiff, cold blankets of the neglected guest bed. Only minutes had passed since his aunt Nellie had tucked him in, adding a comfort despite the austere covers.

"You all tucked in there, boy?" Butters' uncle asked, lingering in the doorway.

Butters smiled brightly in reply. "Yeah, I'm fine Uncle Bud," he beamed, and that was the last time he felt so comfortable in front of his uncle.

First grade had been long ago, and Butters wasn't one to dwell on someone over nine hundred miles away. He wasn't one to dwell until Christmas break, summer break, or occasionally on Thanksgiving. Luckily, this was between the former two, and, as far as Butters knew, there was currently no need for worry.

"Butters," Stephen called. "Oh Butters, could you come here a moment. Your mother and I have to talk to you."

The fifth grader entered the kitchen, his face a display of naïvety. "Yeah, Mom and Dad?" he asked with an unprovoked eager.

"Butters," Linda started, placing the phone on its receiver, "we just got a call from Aunt Nellie. They're having trouble in LA. The branch of the bank she managed shut down."

Butters' smile quickly turned to a frown. "Oh no," he said, empathizing quickly with his aunt.

Linda continued, "but she was offered a job as manager of the branch in Denver. So, they'll be staying with us for a while until she can get things settled out."

"Oh boy," Butters said. "Aunt Nellie's gonna be stayin' with us?"

"That's right," Stephen said, holding up his mug. "So why don't you go clean your room so Aunt Nellie and Uncle Bud don't have to see your mess when they get here."

"Well OK," Butters said before his mind caught up with him. "W-wait," he stammered. "Uncle Bud's gonna be stayin' with us, too?"

Stephen pulled his mug away from his mouth and smiled. "Of course. You didn't think Nellie would come all the way to South Park and leave her husband in LA, did you?" Butters didn't respond, so he went on. "Well, go clean your room, then help your mother with the garage. They'll be here tomorrow, so come home right after school."

In hindsight, it should have been obvious that if Aunt Nellie was moving, her husband would be with her. All the excitement Butters gained in knowing his aunt was staying with him was ultimately crushed by the fear he now had. Never had he stayed with his uncle for such a long, undetermined period, and he wasn't sure what this time would hold. Perhaps this uncertainty, more than anything, was what scared him the most.

Butters couldn't help feeling distracted at school, and his anxiety pulled his attention from anything he did. Despite his best efforts to hide this, his cover fell into jeopardy any time attention was focused on him. At one instance, Mr. Garrison (who even after moving up a grade, these students still couldn't get away from) had called on him, and Butters had to admit, after a string of incoherent mumbles, he had no answer.

Lunch came far too soon. Normally, Butters, as well as any school child, would be glad to feel their day fly by so fast, but Butters was in no hurry to get home. Yet that was not altogether the case. He was very excited to see his aunt. Even with his uncle being there, he would normally feel protected by Nellie, but remembering the special circumstances, a nausea spread throughout him.

Currently, the topic at the lunch table was an all around excitement for the new episode of Terrance and Phillip which was set to broadcast that day after school. This was to be expected on Wednesdays. While nearly everyone around showed an obvious excitement, no group was as outspokenly ecstatic as the possibly most infamous four boys in South Park Elementary.

"Dude, I cannot wait for school to let out," Kyle said, looking about the table.

"I know," Stan replied. "Have you seen the preview? They're supposed to be bringing back a bunch of past characters. It's gonna be sweet!"

"I know," Cartman said, clenching his fists. "I made sure to get a bunch of snacks ready, so as soon as school's out, we have to go straight to my house and get everything together. This episode's gonna kick fucking ass!"

As much as Butters would have liked to share in the excitement, he knew he wasn't going to be able to watch that night. He was fine with this as he was more of a casual viewer anyhow. Today, he had more important things to focus on. Again, his mind dazed in his mixed emotions. If only time could speed up to after school, when he could play and talk with his aunt, and then skip forward past the night so he wouldn't have to deal with... and then he didn't want to think of what might happen.

"Butters?" Kyle said in a tone of slight annoyance.

Butters flicked his eyes to Kyle. "Y-yeah, Kyle?" he asked as calmly as he could in an attempt to hide his strange behavior.

"I said, are you gonna watch tonight?" Kyle repeated, his brow still raised a bit.

"Gee fellas," he began, "I would, but my Aunt Nellie is gonna be at my house when I get home, and I'm awfully excited to spend time with her. Why, I've not seen her since Christmas. I have to get home right away, and I'm sure we'll be busy." Saying this, he almost forgot about night, and he was truly happy.

"(Well,)" Kenny began, "(at least you'll be having fun.)"

School ended without any trouble, and the boys had left for home as quickly as possible, not wanting to miss a second of even the rerun before the new episode.

"I swear to God, Kyle, if I miss the new episode of Terrance and Phillip, I'm gonna be so pissed off," Cartman said. It would just so happen that half way to Cartman's, it occurred to Kyle that he had science homework, and, as if by force of nature, the others had to follow him to retrieve it.

"Dude, we still have twenty minutes," Kyle retorted, just as eager to see the new episode. "We'll make it."

It wasn't until they were leaving the school for the second time that day that the four found Butters pacing about the school parking lot.

"What's Butters doing?" Kyle asked, vocalizing the universal curiosity.

Cartman grunted. "Who cares? He's a gaywad." His tone changed to a whine. "C'mon, I wanna see the new episode."

Stan rolled his eyes. "Fine, let's go," he said, though he was in just as much of a hurry.

"(We should check on him,)" Kenny said, looking out at the other blond. "(He looks depressed.)"

"So? Why do you care?" Cartman asked.

"Yeah," Kyle replied, hoping to end the conversation and make his way to Cartman's living room.

Kenny didn't reply right away. Instead, he just stared at them for a moment before shrugging.

Stan returned the gesture with, "Alright, fine," and the boys made their way to Butters.

Butters had been tracing the lines in the parking lot, idly scooting his foot along the fine gravel that was sparsely gathered at the edge of the lot.

"Hey Butters," Stan said as the four approached.

Somehow, Stan's simple statement was enough to startle Butters. By instinct, he pushed whatever thought he was dwelling on out of his head and put on a smile. "Wuh, hey fellas. What are you still doing here?"

"We were gonna ask you the same question," Kyle said. "It's like, fifteen after. Weren't you gonna get home right away to see your aunt?"

At that, the smile vanished from Butters' face, leaving a hint of terror. "Ah gee," he said, rubbing his knuckles, "I'd love to stay and talk, but I really need to get home. If I don't..." Butters stopped his sentence short, his expression forming into a sort of concentrating daze. His lower lip twitched against the tiny gasp of realization. "My parents will ground me! I-I gotta go home." With that, and before anyone else could get a word in (not that they really tried), Butters crossed the parking lot and rounded the street.

"What was with him?" Kyle wondered.

"Maybe he didn't want to miss Terrance and Phillip like we are," Cartman suggested before checking his watch and making a big show of doing so. "Shit! We have twelve minutes to get home. Good going, Kenny!" he exclaimed slamming a fist into Kenny's arm.

"(What did I do?)" Kenny asked, offended.

"You made us waste time checking on him. He was fine."

"(He wasn't fine,)" Kenny countered. "(He was obviously worried about something.)"

"So?" Cartman replied.

"(So maybe you could not be such an ass-hole and be a little concerned,)" Kenny quipped.

Cartman furrowed his brow. "It's not like you ever cared before."

"Yeah," Kyle agreed, moving on toward the road.

At that, Kenny didn't know how to respond, so he kept quiet and followed the others because that's what he did best.

Butters could easily recall the events that took place four years ago. He could remember the feeling of the rarely slept in bed barely lit by the hallway light. His uncles features were for the most part hidden, the light behind him disguising him in his silhouette. The weight of his body adding to the bed was no anomaly. Perhaps he planned to read Butters a bed time story, or maybe he would give him an innocent kiss on the cheek. In fact, the carnal nature of his uncle's presence did not make itself known until he sat back against the head board and pulled Butters into his lap. Even then, Butters' perspicacity wasn't enough to warn him.

"Uncle Bud?" he asked with a giggle, only amused by the strange behavior. "What are you doing?"

The man positioned his nephew on his lap, allowing him to lean back against his chest. Without any force or sign of hostility, he rose the boy's arms to rest behind his neck before trailing his hands back down the prepubescent limbs where, once he reached the joints, he proceeded to move his fingers.

Butters giggled at the sensation in his armpits. "Stop," he laughed amidst the tickling. "Uncle Bud!"

"Stop? But why?" he asked in playful confusion. "It doesn't tickle does it? Well, what about here?" Slowly, he moved his hands down Butters' sides and, after slipping under the sleep shirt, groped at the sensitive flesh their.

Coincidentally or not, this changed Butters' movements, causing him to wriggle wildly in his uncle's lap, his laughter rising at the same time.

A grunt escaped Uncle Bud at this moment, and in a breathy, raspy whisper, he shushed, "Keep your voice down. You don't want to wake Aunt Nellie. Can you do that?" Butters nodded, and Uncle Bud continued to dart his fingers against his sides. Butters lightly sucked on his lower lip to suppress his giggles, making his body's reaction stronger, unaware of how stimulating his shivers and jerks were for his uncle.

The rough and calloused hands slowly transitioned from rapid wiggling to calm and spread out stroking. The tips ran up Butters' belly, calmly traveling back to the armpits and to the elbow before journeying back down. Butters no longer felt the need to suppress his laughter seeing as how the motions were no longer ticklish. Instead, he focused on what was almost a nice, relaxing sensation. Again, the fingers ran up Butters front, this time placing more focus on his nipples. Uncle Bud circled the pink nubs at first before lightly squeezing them between his fingers. Butters didn't remember which two fingers or if he even felt much from the action, but he did remember feeling confused by the way his uncle was breathing. His breaths were unusually deep and shrouded with moisture.

The hands moved lower, and the further south they traveled, the more the palms flattened into a stroking motion. Butters' eyes widened when his uncle wrapped his legs around his smaller one's and slipped his hand under the waist band of his nephew's pajama pants.

"Uncle Bud?" Butters whimpered, feeling strongly uneasy.

Uncle Bud shushed him, palm stroking. "Be quiet. Don't wake up Aunt Nellie. I thought you said you liked tickles. You didn't fib, did you?"

Ever since Butters could remember, lies were one of the most detestable of sins, and while he didn't have in mind these particular circumstances, the idea of his uncle thinking of him as a sinner put him at a conflict. Because of this, Butters froze, allowing his uncle to feel as he wished. He did exactly as he was told, not making a noise. Neither a whimper nor whine escaped Butters' pursed lips that night, and while he remained deathly recumbent, Uncle Bud proceeded to whisper ardent words hot and wet against his ear.

Upon arriving home, Butters was greeted by his aunt who appeared at the doorway almost instantly. The thick, pink long-sleeved shirt was a surprise considering her usual, warm weather attire. Still, this didn't deter Butters' excitement from seeing who was probably his favorite family member, and he would admit this if not for the guilt of favoritism.

"Aunt Nellie!" he exclaimed, eyes glistening.

Nellie brought her nephew into a tight embrace. "Hey Butters! I've missed you," she responded.

It was at this point when another familiar voice was heard. "Well look what the cat dragged in," Uncle Bud joked, adjusting his cap which sported a conjoined "LA" on the front.

Instinctively, Butters tensed. "Hey Uncle Bud," he said, putting on a smile, though he kept in his aunt's arms.

Linda had prepared hot tea, and Nellie had baked a chocolate cake, for the sisters were always fans of organizing tea parties, especially for their close knit kinfolk. Butters wasn't much of a fan of hot tea, but he could drink it if need be, and he was always eager for cake so he always enjoyed these get-togethers.

Stephen had been taking the initiative to keep up conversation, and Butters was glad to hear his dad brag on him for his good grades. Not often did he hear his parents talk highly of him.

Of course, he was very glad to hear his aunt cut in with, "Well I'm not surprised. Butters has always been a very bright young man." She ruffled her nephew's hair.

Butters knocked his knuckles together. "Ah geez. Thanks Aunt Nellie," he said, blushing a bit.

Uncle Bud turned to Linda and Stephen, setting his cup down. "I'm sure Butters is gonna go far. There's no doubt in my mind," he said, very sincerely. Despite everything, at times like these, Butters felt his uncle was a good person. Perhaps that was what made the truth so painful.

Once the tea was finished, Nellie sent Butters to retrieve a photo album from her bag. Butters was surprised at the plethora of albums. Large and small of different degrees sat stacked in the bag that laid loose around the stack rather than holding it, making the bag seem rather useless as it was.

"Just bring the blue one and some of the small ones, hon," Nellie called, knowing Butters wouldn't know which to get.

Butters complied, bringing them to the kitchen and setting them on the table.

"Here we go," Bud said, opening the blue album. The album contained various pictures from a recent vacation. Everyone seemed to get immediately absorbed within the pictures.

Once Butters grew bored with these - most of which being landscapes that, while the adults seemed to think were fascinating, Butters could not enjoy - he flipped open one of the small albums. He was pleasantly surprised to see his mom and aunt in their teenage years. In fact, the whole album seemed to be of the two throughout high school.

"Oh," Linda said, seeing the pictures. She pulled the book onto the table. "Nellie, did you get these from Mom?"

"Yeah," she confirmed, flipping the page. "Look, this must be your senior prom, Linda."

"Is that you, Dad?" Butters asked, pointing at the young man his mother was with.

"It sure is," Stephen confirmed. Butters smiled. He found interest and wonder in seeing how people could change. His father seemed to have nearly a buzz cut in this picture, which surprisingly played a large roll in how his facial features appeared. He had to admit that his current hair style complimented him better.

"Where's Aunt Nellie at that point?" Butters asked.

Linda laughed. "She was at college, already being swept off her feet."

"That's right," Nellie said. "That year was when I first met Bud."

"You always said you couldn't wait to leave Colorado," Linda said. "You couldn't wait to go somewhere nice and warm, where you could live a wealthy life with a loving husband."

"Well," she said, taking her husband's hand, "I definitely got all that. But you just couldn't bear to leave Colorado. It looks like we both won."

Butters was awed by this. He had never heard these stories. Linda looked to her son and laughed. "Did you know that Bud's the whole reason your aunt is the way she is today? He really did help her all throughout college."

"Well now it looks like we need your help, doesn't it," Bud said. "I'm not doing too good now."

Nellie squeezed his hand. "Hey now," she said, "this is just another chance to sweep me off my feet again."

While Butters would admit this new discovery was very romantic, it also put him at an even stronger unease. He couldn't believe how different his uncle's two sides were. Still, he hoped this meant that his uncle could change. Butters went to bed that night with just such an outlook. Though he knew his aunt and uncle were just a room over, he tried to remain calm. He thought that possibly, his uncle's love for Aunt Nellie was so strong, he wouldn't need Butters. Hopefully, he thought, the earlier reminder of their romance was all he needed to change. Somewhere, the good part of his uncle had to be laying dormant, just waiting to come out. This was enough to help Butters sleep comfortably. Still, some part of Butters must have had its guard up because his eyes snapped open the instant his door was pushed open.

Not a second after opening his eyes, Butters slammed them shut once more. He could barely hear the footsteps against the carpet, and the door closed nearly silently, yet every stealthy movement amplified in Butters' ear. Even with his eyes closed, he could easily imagine what was happening and what was imminent. The familiar breath hit Butters' ear.

"Come on. Sit up."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: It's been a long while, and I apologize for keeping everyone waiting. It really sucks when an author stops uploading in the middle of a story. (Heck, I was just at the beginning.) Thank you all so much for reading my story, and I promise I'll try to upload more often now that I have internet again. I don't want to bombard those who alerted this story, so I'm uploading two chapters right now, and the rest will be uploaded a little later. Something I want to point out is that I've changed Butters' father's name from Chris to Stephen because the FAQ on SouthParkStudios has declared that the official name, but for the sake of not retconning the name, family members may sometimes use Chris. Thought I'd explain that so nobody gets confused by my switching back and forth. Anyway, thank you all again for reading, and please enjoy. And remember, I love constructive criticism!

**It Wasn't Just Once:**

**Ch:2**

If ever there was proof that stress affected a child's mind, Butters was determined to never be an example, and, despite his continual blunders, his classmates were none the wiser. It would seem no student would pay any mind to Butters' incessant yawning. Even when he jumped with a start when Mr. Garrison placed a hand on his shoulder, no one did as much as bat an eye.

Even though Butters was on edge and inattentive with lack of sleep, he was happy. At school, he didn't have to deal with fear, and while he had no great pal with whom to chat away his worries, he knew he had plenty of friends. This, he felt, would be more than enough to drown his sorrows. Perhaps this was how he kept so out of suspicion that even he almost forgot his fatigue, though it became all too evident when Butters arrived at the lunch table with the imprint of a spiral bound notebook splayed across his cheek.

Butters smiled obliviously at the group of curious eyes around the lunch table.

Conversations at lunch were always entertaining, and though Butters himself rarely contributed too much other than gossip, he always enjoyed the erratic topics which somehow made their way out of these children's mouths. While for the most part, conversations at the lunch table were ever-changing, anyone could guess what that day's topic would be.

Cartman talked passionately of the previous day's Terrance and Phillip, exclamations of pros and cons running rampant. Then, once he would pause, Stan or Kyle would throw in there two cents, which would ultimately lead to hundreds of dollars worth of mostly favorable opinions. Even Kenny, who usually kept his words to himself, spewed with much vigor his love for the show. Any passer-by might have thought the boys were arguing by the amount of energy being displayed, but while their words sometimes went to negative interpretations, in the end, all was favorable.

"Dude," Kyle said, "I'm so watching the encore tonight."

Butters smiled as he took a bite from his hamburger, thinking how he'd have to catch a rerun of the episode, though that night probably wouldn't be the night.

"(So you didn't get to watch it?)" Kenny asked, and Butters was a little surprised. Not so much so that he couldn't believe it, but he was still pleasantly taken.

"N-nah," he responded. "I was too busy. Mom and Aunt Nellie made cake, and it was so delicious that I couldn't stop eating. Then we looked at pictures. Aunt Nellie had a bunch of photo albums. She had one that was full of pictures of Mom and her in high school. She told me stories that I had never heard before. Like about how she and Mom..."

Cartman let out an exaggerated yawn. He wiped his eye and said, "Oh man, I just got so sleepy."

"Shut up, Cartman," Kyle said in objection.

Butters turned his head down and rubbed his knuckles together.

"(Well,)" Kenny started, "(sounds like you had fun.)"

Butters smiled. "Yeah."

"(And since you're so out of it today, you must have been up pretty late, huh,)" Kenny said with a wink.

Butters abandoned his smile. "Well, I, uh," he fumbled as he stood with his tray. "I'm gonna go on to class now."

"Already?" Kyle asked. "You hardly ate."

Butters looked to his tray. It was true. His burger had hardly been traced by his teeth, and the carton of milk remained sealed. "Gee. I guess I just don't have much of an appetite right now. See ya fellas." With that, Butters was gone.

"Dude, Butters is acting weirder than yesterday," Kyle noted as he chewed on his lunch.

"What an ass-hole," Cartman spat.

Kenny furrowed his brow. "(What do you mean?)"

"If he was gonna throw his food away, he could've at least gave it to someone who wants it," Cartman explained.

"You're the ass-hole, Cartman," Stan said absent-mindedly.

Kenny couldn't help but wonder if something he said had upset Butters. Kenny wasn't one to automatically believe himself to be at fault, but seeing the way the other blond acted after his comment made him somewhat paranoid. "(The way I said that,)" Kenny started, "(what I said to Butters... Do you think he thought I was trying to sound dirty?)"

Stan raised his brow at Kenny. "What? About being up late? I thought that's what you were trying to do."

"(No,)" Kenny explained in defense, "(I really just meant he must have been up late because he seemed tired.)"

That, Kenny decided, must have been what set Butters off. He had taken what Kenny said to be some sick joke, and while that usually would have been the case, this wasn't. Despite knowing his friends were right about him never having cared about what they said about Butters before, he couldn't help but feel some guilt. True, it was nowhere near as bad as some of the things Cartman had said, but Kenny didn't find much solace in that.

Kenny wouldn't have to think on it much longer. The remainder of the day being filled with homework helped to ensure that, and he nearly forgot what it was he had even cared about. He reached the porch of his house, and before his hand even made contact with the door knob, his attention was seized by the shrieking making its way through the thin walls. His parents were at it again.

For a moment, Kenny thought about leaving and coming back later, when the arguments ceased, but the thought of being controlled by his parents' screams made him turn the knob and enter the run down shack his parents called a house.

"Maybe if you got off your lazy ass once in a while!" Kenny's mother yelled. Her voice sounded hoarse, but that didn't stop her.

"I'm the one who takes care of your kids when you're off getting stoned all the time!"

Kenny heard the loud smack sound as he quickly and silently made his way to his room.

"Fuck, Carol! Fuck! Bitch, that hurt!" Kenny heard his dad say once he made it to his room. He closed the door and locked the chain. His parents rarely tried to enter his room, but for some reason, locking the door gave Kenny a strange feeling of comfort.

"How dare you say that in my house!" Carol screamed.

"Your house? This is my house! I made it! I own it, bitch!"

"I pay the bills! That makes it mine! And you better thank your sorry ass the kids aren't home. Accuse me of drugs. You're one to talk. What do you do when I'm out buying groceries so our boys can have something to eat?"

Kenny furrowed his brow and laid back on his bed. The two were like a broken record. Every argument was headed by the same three topics: bills, drugs, and food. The only variety was when his mom brought up some ancient woman - Charlotte, Haley, Pam - that his dad supposedly slept with some time long ago... Liane... Among these headers, Kenny found himself omitted. Sure, if his mom wanted to use him or his brother for an excuse to return to the aforementioned topics, they would be of the utmost importance, but as for a person of importance with feelings, Kenny was a miserably faded foot-note in the book of white-trash excuses for domestic disturbances.

Despite his mother's supposed passion for "making sure her boys can eat," Kenny knew he would be fending for himself that night. Not that he minded. He preferred to know what he was putting into his body rather than risk his mother's experimental cooking. After searching the mostly barren cabinets, Kenny settled with the tried and true frosted flake cereal. This would be the third night this week that his supper consisted of this. Unfortunately, the box was completely empty after filling half a bowl. If he ate, the weekend would be miserable. Considering his mom's shopping habits were as chaotic as his own deaths, it was impossible to know when the kitchen would be restocked. This being the case, Kenny painfully poured his the cereal back into its box. He would not be eating this night.

On the other hand, Butters ate very well that night. Another reason he loved his Aunt Nellie so much was because she always knew how to prepare a feast. Steak and potatoes and garlic bread digested in his stomach as he brushed his teeth, happily singing away as best he could through his brush and paste.

"Good night my little Butters," Nellie cooed in the door way.

Butters hastily spat out the froth from his mouth. "Are ya goin' to bed already?" he asked.

"Yeah," she replied. "We've gotta drive out to Denver tomorrow. We're looking at apartments. Gotta get up early tomorrow."

Butters beamed at his aunt. "Sleep tight then. You two don't wanna be sleepy tomorrow. It's hard to wake up in the morning if you're tired."

"It sure is. Well, good night," she said, walking to her room.

"You had better be getting to bed yourself," Uncle Bud said as he walked by the bathroom.

Butters looked at his tooth brush. "Y-yeah. After I'm done in here." He moved the brush back to his mouth and scrubbed, his eyes glazing over till his reflection blurred in his vision. He spent about 20 minutes brushing and flossing and rinsing extensively before his dad finally told him he needed to get out of the bathroom and go to bed.

Alternatively, Kenny's parents rarely told him when to go to sleep as long as he wasn't in the way. And besides that, even when he was tired enough, something tended to keep him awake. It wasn't the rats either. His parents had a tendency to fight well into the night on many occasions.

Emotionally, Kenny was desensitized. Unfortunately, he never learned how to block out the actual sounds that prevented him from drifting off. The person he resented the most, though, was his older brother, Kevin. The two brothers were polar opposites when it came to their involvement with the family. While Kenny always attempted to stay out of his parents' affairs as much as humanely possible, Kevin always knew how to butt in, especially when the quarrels were coming to an end, just so he could pour more gas on the flame and have the whole house suddenly erupting again. This wasn't even the worst part. Kenny rarely complained to his friends when he had a bad experience with his parents, but Kevin made damn sure that any person who would listen knew about his personal life. It was quite infuriating, not to mention embarrassing.

Kenny opened the window at the foot of his bed, holding it open with a broom handle, and crawled out to sit on the sill. Even though the hard plastic wasn't the most comfortable to sit on, Kenny did enjoy looking out at the night's sky. He leaned his back against the glass and gazed across at yards of his neighbors.

Somehow, everything seemed different at night. Perhaps more secretive. In a way, Kenny felt like he was seeing a different side of the town, like some clandestine world the day wanted to hide. Honestly, Kenny wasn't one to waste his time on philosophy but it was calming nonetheless, and whenever a train came through on the nearby train tracks, he would lose himself in the loud rumble that entirely engulfed all the unwanted sounds in the house.

Butters felt fairly confident crawling into bed. His uncle had gone to bed earlier than him after all. He pulled the cover up to his neck and cocooned himself. Sleep quickly overtook him, and he dozed peacefully until an unfortunate discomfort woke him. He had to pee.

Instinctively, Butters rolled out of bed and made his way to the door which he opened hastily. The creak of the door brought about an awareness, and Butters remembered his uncle in the room across from him. Instantly, he regretted opening his door so noisily, especially after seeing that the guest room's door had been left open. He thought of turning around and going back to bed, but the pressure was too great to hold. Butters squinted his eyes, trying to adjust them to look into the room. Everything looked undisturbed from what he could tell. Slowly, Butters continued on to the bathroom, tip-toeing as quietly as he could and making sure to close the door before turning on the lights lest they somehow manage to creep into his uncle's awareness.

Flicking on the lights, Butters sighed in relief as he dropped his pants to the floor and lifted his shirt. The sound of his urine hitting the water was almost as satisfying as the relieving of pressure. However, this pleasure was abruptly disrupted when he felt the presence behind him

Uncle Bud hadn't made a single noise as he entered the bathroom and locked the door. He had stealthily moved behind Butters, not becoming noticed until his hand touched his nephew's shoulder which stiffened immediately.

"Let me help you with that," he said, taking hold of Butters.

The pressure was too much for Butters to control. Despite how much he wanted to stop the flow, it was too painful. He felt powerless as his uncle aimed his stream.

"You had to go a lot, huh," Uncle Bud said with an amused tone which sounded far too casual to Butters.

Butters' throat felt tight and raw when he swallowed, and his vision blurred as tears fell down his cheeks. The stream thinned out and disappeared, and Uncle Bud shook him off before pressing against him.

"Uncle Bud," Butters squeaked, "please, I'm really sleepy." His throat was so raw that it hurt to talk.

"This will help you sleep," he replied.

"I just want to got to bed," Butters pleaded. He winced at the sound of pajama drawstrings and cloth being pulled down. His body shook as his uncle's palm pressed against his back and pushed him forward. Butters slapped his palms on the back of the commode when he felt his uncle press against his butt, rubbing against him.

"Please," Butters whispered. His uncle continued to slide between his cheeks, Butters' plea receiving no attention. "I'm tired. Just let me go to bed. Please. I wanna go to bed. I'm sleepy." His words squeaked and cracked as tears stung his eyes. He slammed them shut, telling himself it would be over soon. It always ended eventually.

When Butters awoke the next morning, his aunt and uncle had already left. Butters stood in the doorway of the bathroom, mind fogging over a moment before he pulled himself out of it. Instead, a nausea overcame him and it stayed with him even when he left for school.


	3. Chapter 3

**It Wasn't Just Once:**

**Ch:3**

Somehow, the dirt and grime across the floor never crossed Kenny's mind a year ago. He could stroll around his house completely indifferent to the tiny bits of rocks and dirt that clung to his feet, but now he felt disgusted at the thought. Nothing had changed. The condition of the house was no different now than a year ago. Perhaps he was simply growing tired of these living conditions, or maybe he had only recently truly understood how bad they were. Whatever the case, Kenny had grown sick of his surroundings. It had gotten to a point where he couldn't even feel comfortable in his own living room, instead preferring to stay in his bedroom where he felt more in-control. Though even his bedroom wasn't as clean as he would like, what with it being difficult to clean without a working vacuum cleaner. Still, at least in his room, he knew where the mess came from rather than it being some mysterious stranger filth.

The majority of the houses in South Park were identical in design - this being from back when the town was founded as a mining town with the houses being built specifically for the families of the miners - all with two stories and rooms placed in the same locations. Obviously, newer houses had been built since then, and this included Kenny's home. Rather, it was a shack his father had built, and Stuart was apparently very proud of this fact. It was one of the very few one-story homes in town, which was good for Kenny because he didn't have to walk far down the hall to get to the bathroom, and then the kitchen was just at the end of the hall. From there, he could make a straight shot for the front door, allowing him to spend as short a time in the living room - and by extension, with his family - as possible.

Kenny quickly finished his morning rituals of cleaning up and getting dressed before throwing on his parka. He drew his hood tight and walked out to the cool outside world.

"(Hey dudes,)" Kenny said as he walked up to the bus-stop.

"Hey Keeny," Cartman replied with his obnoxious pronunciation. "Hey you guys," he continued, "You know what we should do? At the mall, at the – um – food court..."

"No, Cartman," Kyle interrupted. "we're not spending fifty dollars on that disgusting deep-fried garbage."

"Well that's not for you to decide, now is it, Kyle?" Cartman asked. They were referring to a fifty dollar gift certificate he had won from a drawing at the mall earlier that week, and ever since, what the money would be spent on was intermittently debated about. "I know it's hard for someone of your kind not to be in control of all the money in the world, but I earned this. Something you will never understand."

"You didn't earn anything, fat-ass!" Kyle quipped. "When have you ever earned anything?"

"Kyle, calm down," Stan commanded. "Do you really care that much that Cartman's name was drawn instead of yours?"

Kyle glared at Stan, exasperated. "No Goddammit!"

Kenny merely rolled his eyes at his friends' behavior. Still, he truly liked the fact that nothing seemed to change with them. They provided an enjoyable distraction from his home life and erratic deaths, and because of that, he was able to enjoy life quite a bit. As far as he was concerned, everyone needed to have something to laugh about in life. Maybe that was the only thing keeping the world from chaos, bedlam, and madness.

Despite what he had to deal with the previous night, Butters looked quite pleasant. It was a decision he had come to that morning. If he couldn't feel comfortable at home, he'd have to make school his safe place, and that meant he would force himself to be happy so eventually he might really believe it. He made his way to the classroom with intentions of holding onto just such a mentality.

"Okay, Butters," he said quietly to himself as he grabbed hold of the door handle, "you can do it. Just be normal." He pushed down on the handle, resulting in it giving a loud clack and refusing to move.

"The door's locked," Stan said. "Garrison isn't here yet."

Butters looked down to where the four boys were sitting against the wall beside the classroom door. "Oh, hey fellas," Butters smiled. "I didn't see ya there."

"Obviously," Kyle said. "Why were you talking to yourself?"

Butters blushed. "O-oh. I dunno. I just," he muttered, mashing his knuckles together.

Cartman spat out an obnoxious laugh and yelled, "God, what a retard!"

Kyle punched Cartman's arm. "Don't be an ass-hole," he said.

"Fuck you, Kyle," Cartman whined.

Butters barely payed attention to this, his eyes drifting to his feet. He had already screwed up. How was he supposed to show that he was normal if he couldn't even notice his surroundings? That, and talking to himself was definitely not normal. His self-criticism would have gone on if he hadn't happened to turn his eyes to the silent blond sitting by the door. Butters stiffened his back. It was hard to be sure, but it appeared to him that Kenny was glaring. His blue eyes were narrowed and fixated on him.

Butters blinked and looked behind him, thinking maybe Kenny was staring at something there. When he saw nothing he turned back, shocked to see Kenny glaring even harder. Butters' back stiffened again, making him stand at attention. He swallowed in his nervous state, worried that maybe Kenny had noticed something that gave away his dirty secret. Did he look unclean? Did he smell? Maybe talking to one's self was a sign. Whatever the case, the two blonds stayed in this stare-off even when more children showed up.

"Is the door locked?" a nasally voice asked.

"We wouldn't be sitting out here if it wasn't, Craig," Cartman spat, saying his name as if it were an insult.

"Excuse me, kids," the effeminate voice of their teacher said as he made his way to the door. His keys jangled as they left his pocket. "Excuse me, Butters. I need to get to the door."

Butters finally broke away his gaze and backed away, feeling a bit foolish. The door opened and the students migrated into the classroom. Butters stood outside the door as everyone filed inside until he was nearly the last one.

"(Go on,)" Kenny said, pulling Butters from his dumbfounded stupor.

"E-excuse me," he said, staggering into the classroom. Butters plopped into his seat and sighed deeply, slumping back and looking into the fluorescent lights that lined the ceiling. His eyes itched, and as he rubbed, a yawn escaped him. At that moment, it occurred to him that he must not have gotten enough sleep. He sat up in an attempt to not give in to his sleep deprivation.

"Okay class," Mr. Garrison said as he took his place in front of the class, "open your history books to page 65 and we'll start reading aloud. Wendy?"

Wendy cleared her throat and took off reading from the beginning of the section in a clear voice that a majority of the class would have a hard time competing with. Craig started up from where Wendy left off, except he read in a monotonous, steady pace that sounded as unenthusiastic about the text as possible.

Butters readjusted as much as possible to keep himself alert. He sat up, back against the seat, back away from the seat, butt forward, butt back, arms on the desk, arms off the desk, and nothing seemed to work. Eventually, he crossed his arms on his desk and hovered over the textbook, deciding that if he focused on reading along, his mind would stay active. This worked well enough until Clyde's turn came about. Clyde read in a similar monotone to Craig except he read at an achingly slow pace that was impossible to read along with. Butters felt his lids droop, forcing him to jerk his head. He shook it to keep focused, and, when that wasn't working, he tried biting his lip and pinching his arm. All this he did as inconspicuously as he could in an environment full of other people, but, of course, it wasn't enough.

"Butters!" Mr. Garrison firmly said, rapping his knuckles on the desk beside Butters' head.

"Wuh... huh?" Butters mumbled, instantly shooting back into his seat. He wiped his mouth and turned his head to look all over the room, a little relieved to see he was at school.

"That's the second time this week that you've fallen asleep in class," Mr. Garrison explained. "Am I gonna have to call your parents?"

Butters' eyes widened. "N-no, please don't!" he panicked, not even aware of the slight laughter in the room. "I swear I won't fall asleep in class again! Just don't call them. I'm begging you. Don't call my parents. They'll ground me, and I can't get grounded. I can't!"

"Alright, Butters, calm down," Mr. Garrison said. "Just don't fall asleep again, or I'll have to. Maybe you shouldn't be staying up late. Don't you think?"

"Y-yeah," Butters agreed, turning his head down. He felt a sting in his eyes, but he blinked them away quickly.

At lunch, Butters picked around the edge of his school pizza, peeling it and putting it in his mouth. The other boys sat all around the table, but Butters payed no mind to their conversations today. He was so exhausted that his head felt like it might have been too big for the rest of his body.

"Why even get food if you aren't gonna eat it?" Kyle asked.

"Huh?" Butters said, realizing Kyle was referring to him. "Oh. Well gee, I thought I was hungry, but I guess I don't have much of an appetite today." His eyes moved to Kenny who seemed to be glaring at him again. "What?"

"(You're exhausted,)" Kenny explained. "(You're eyes are blood-shot and you're falling asleep in class. What's the deal?)"

Butters narrowed his eyes. Something in him shook. "You think it's cause I've been up late? Havin' a-uh... good time or somethin'? Cause I haven't. So don't go assumin' things that ain't true," Butters said, standing up and forcefully sliding his tray across the table so that it flipped and threw pizza onto Kenny's lap. After that, he left the cafeteria, almost tripping over himself as he turned away.

Butters locked himself in a bathroom stall and plopped onto a toilet. For a long time, he just stared at the floor, feeling his face heat up and his eyes sting until everything in him released into a downpour of tears traveling down his cheeks. He covered his mouth with both hands to keep quiet but otherwise made no attempt to stop the crying. He gasped and hiccuped, and with every tear he shed, more came to shove them down his face.

He knew he didn't deserve what he was getting. He had seen enough abuse shows to know that. He just didn't want to ruin his family. If Aunt Nellie knew, her heart would be broken, and if Butters broke his aunt's heart, well he'd feel awful. Even Uncle Bud wasn't always bad. Usually, he was really nice and fun. Despite everything, Butters thought he was a good person. Besides, it had been four years. If he was going to do something about this, he felt it should have already been done or not done at all. In that aspect, Butters decided, it was a little his fault.

The sound of the bathroom door opening made Butters stifle his sobs, and when he heard who had entered, he instinctively pulled his feet up.

Cartman's annoying laughter spewed into the room. "You're such a loser, Kenny."

"(Shut up,)" Kenny replied apathetically. He turned on the faucet and ran the water over a paper towel.

"I wouldn't worry about it," Kyle said. "Butters never stays mad at anyone long."

Kenny wiped the towel against the pizza sauce stain on his jacket, though it didn't seem to be doing much good.

"What do you care if you have a stain?" Cartman asked. "It's the same color anyway. Quit trying to hide that you're poor." Kenny began to scrub harder. "Everyone already knows. Hey, next time you want to harass Butters, ask if he wants to have a fun night with you. Better yet, ask him if he'll give you a blow job. That's more your style, isn't it?"

At that, Kenny chucked the wet paper towel into the sink and tore his hood off his head. "Listen to me you fat dick!" He shouted, turning to look at Cartman. "That wasn't at all what I meant, so stop assuming that everyone in the world is as much of a douche as you, because if you haven't figured it out yet, you take the cake as far as that's concerned. You know what? I'm nominating you for Biggest Douche in the Universe because I honestly think it'll be a no contest."

Kenny threw his hood back on and marched out of the bathroom. Stan and Kyle stared at each other in silent shock for a moment before following after their friend.

"Yeah, whatever Kenny," Cartman called. "There's no way anyone thinks I'm as big a douche as you." He picked the soaked paper towel out of the sink and chucked it to the side. Butters jumped when he heard it slam against the stall door, but he managed to stay silent until he heard Cartman leave.

Butters opened the stall door and walked to a sink. Looking in the mirror, he saw that Kenny was right about his eyes. They were sunken and blood-shot. He felt absolutely terrible for how he talked to Kenny who really was just concerned. "If you're going to be like that, Butters," he told himself, "well then maybe you don't deserve to be worried about."

With intentions of apologizing, Butters went to speak with the boys after the final bell rang.

"No," Kyle said, slamming his locker, "because you'll just break it like you did your own."

"Like I would do that," Cartman said, crossing his arms.

Butters stood back, not wanting to interrupt. He didn't know anyone had noticed him, but Kenny saw his approach and immediately turned away, too awkward about their earlier conversation to make contact.

"You know I would let you borrow my controller if you asked," Cartman persuaded. "Kyle? Kyle?"

Ignoring the whining, Kyle turned away, seeing Butters standing patiently by. "What is it, Butters?"

Butters was about to speak when Cartman interrupted. "Butters!" he said, "You have an Xbox, don't you?"

"Uh, yeah," he replied nervously.

"Let me borrow your controller," he insisted. "Mine's busted."

"You smashed it," Kyle corrected. "Don't give it to him, Butters."

"Damn it, Kyle. Do not take this away from me," Cartman yelled.

An idea came to Butters. "Actually," he said with a smile. "Actually, why don't you fellas just come over to my house and play."

"(Really?)" Kenny asked, surprised to see that Butters wasn't too pissed to make such an offer.

"You don't have to invite us just because Cartman told you to, you know," Stan explained.

Butters shook his head. "That's fine. Honestly, I just thought it would be better than sittin' around bored all day."

"Yeah, see," Cartman said, "he wants us to."

Kyle shrugged. "If it's not a problem."

Butters smiled. "Not at all."

With that, the five boys agreed to gather at the Stotch residence. Butters felt safe with his friends with him as they entered the empty living room.

"Go ahead and sit down. I'll go get us some snacks," Butters said, walking towards the kitchen. "Hey Dad?"

"Your dad's not here," Uncle Bud said, entering the living room from the kitchen. "Nellie took him and your mom out shopping. I told her I'd stay here so you wouldn't be lonely when you got home, but it looks like you brought some friends home."

Butters looked back at his classmates sitting on the couch. "Yeah," he smiled. "Fellas, this is my uncle, Bud. Uncle Bud, this is Stan, Kyle, Kenny, and Eric. We were actually about to go up to my room, so..."

"Okay, that's fine," Uncle Bud said with a smile. "Go on and have fun. I'll be down here if you need me."

"What about the snacks?" Cartman asked demandingly.

"Oh, um...," Butters started before his uncle interrupted.

"How about I whip something up and bring it to you," he offered with a smile.

"If it's not too much of a problem," Kyle said, not wanting to impose.

"Of course not," Uncle Bud insisted. "Go on up and play and I'll be up shortly."

The boys started to make their way up the stairs when Stan said, "It was nice meeting you. Butters has talked a lot about you."

Uncle Bud laughed. "Nothing bad I hope."

Once in Butters' bedroom, he promptly closed the door and flopped onto his bed while Stan, Kyle, and Cartman looked through his shelf of games. Kenny sat on the floor beside Butters' bed, leaning his back against it. Butters rolled on his belly and rubbed his eyes against his arms before turning his head to his fellow blond.

"I'm sorry," Butters said.

"(What are you sorry for?)" Kenny asked, a little cross.

"Well because I hollered at you when you were just being considerate," Butters explained.

Kenny stared at him for a moment before saying, "(Yeah, well I'm sorry, too. For speaking without thinking first.)"

Butters smiled. The sounds from the T.V. took his attention. "Aren't you gonna play?"

"(Don't feel like it,)" Kenny said. "(What about you?)"

Butters sat up on his bed and brought his knees up to his chest. "Nah. I'm still pretty tired."

Kenny nodded. "(You like having your aunt and uncle here?)"

Butters thought for a moment on how he wanted to answer the question. "They're," he thought, "okay. I mean, I love them both. Really, you ought to meet Aunt Nellie. She's great."

Kenny nodded again and turned his head to watch the game. "(So,)" he said, attempting to keep a conversation going, "(why are you so tired at school lately? Is it because you've been staying up late with your family? Cause that's really all I meant when I asked.)"

"You could say that," Butters replied, gazing blankly at the television. He flopped onto his back and pulled a pillow out from under his head, handing it to Kenny. "You can use it," he said.

Kenny took the pillow and looked at it for a moment. "(No thanks,)" he said, throwing it onto Butters' face. "(I don't need it.)" He looked confused at Butters' motionless body.

"I'm too lazy to move it," Butters explained after a bit. Kenny laughed lightly before a knock came to the door.

"Butters," Uncle Bud said from the other side, "my hands are full. Could you get the door?"

Butters pressed the pillow against his face, unmoving.

"(I'll get it,)" Kenny said, deciding Butters was too exhausted. Of course, he couldn't see the pained expression on his friend's face.

Kenny opened the door, apparently surprising the man. "I was expecting Butters," he said with a large plate of cookies in his hands. "Here you go."

Kenny took the large plate. "(Thanks,)" he said graciously.

"I'm sorry," Uncle Bud said, "what was that?"

Kenny loosened his hood around his mouth. "I said thanks."

"Oh. You're welcome." He peered into the room. "Butters, if you sleep now, you won't be able to get to sleep tonight."

Butters achingly pulled the pillow away from his face. "Yes sir," he said.

Immediately after Uncle Bud left the doorway, Butters rolled out of bed and closed the door back. Kenny became a little curious at this behavior. It reminded him of how he acted when anyone in his family entered his room. The difference was that he couldn't stand his family while Butters always seemed to love everyone.

Kenny sat the plate beside his friends, snatching a cookie for himself before Cartman plowed in. "I wonder why he couldn't get the door himself," Kenny asked. "I could hold that plate with one hand." He bit down on the cookie in his hand, trying hard not to look too greedy despite his hunger.

Butters sat back on his bed. "He probably just wanted me to open the door for him."

"Any time you want us to leave," Kenny started, "just tell us."

"Yeah," Stan said, turning to snag a cookie for himself. "Like if you want to spend time with your family, just tell us, dude."

"Aw that's alright, fellas," Butters said. "Honestly, I wouldn't mind if you guys could stay all night."

The day went on, and eventually Butters' parents returned home. Night was fast approaching when the boys finally decided it was time to head out.

"It was nice meeting you boys," Aunt Nellie said to the group as they headed for the door.

Stan turned around. "You too..."

"Ah, shucks. Just call me Nellie," she said. "Everyone does."

"You too, Nellie," Stan said, a little awkward with the first name basis. "See ya later, Butters."

"Bye, fellas," Butters said, smiling as he stood by his aunt. Kenny smiled. He was glad to see that Butters was in a better mood.

When Kenny returned home, his parents were passed out on the couch. He quietly made a bee line for his room where he dropped his backpack and plopped onto his bed. He threw his boots off and inhaled the stagnant air of his dimly lit room.

Slowly, as if it ached him to move, Kenny rose from his bed and walked across the room. The sliding door of his closet slid roughly against the floor as it insisted on popping off its track with every use. Gripping the door frame, he lowered himself to his knees and peered into the dark corner. A pile of clothes occupied the space before him, and after tossing various articles of clothing aside, he pulled out a tight, gray shirt with a bold, green M on the front.

For just a short time, Kenny stood for something. He could help the town, keeping criminal activity to a minimum. Practically nonexistent. At one point, he was an angel keeping watch over the city at night. A symbol the town needed. Of course, as soon as it became known that Kenny McCormick and Mysterion were one in the same, no one took him seriously as a hero.

Had he really become solely known for his toilet humor and perverse joking? Kenny truly had to wonder if this was how everyone saw him. Just another foul mouthed little punk. Not even his friends could take him seriously. Was it that hard to believe that he might actually be concerned for another person. It's not like he was Cartman or something. Even his friends didn't believe he could be serious. Was the idea of Kenny being a hero really that unbelievable? Maybe they just couldn't imagine that a kid who couldn't even save himself half the time could ever be able to protect anybody else.

Kenny crumbled the costume up and chucked it back into the corner of his closet, immediately burying it under more clothes. He wasn't a hero.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Alright, here is the next chapter. I highly appreciate all the people who favorited and alerted this story and, of course, I love the reviews I've received! I hope you all continue to enjoy this story. One quick note, because I just know somebody is going to want to correct this, this chapter is going to reference EV Games. While I'm sure plenty will recognize this, I'll go ahead and explain that this is the name of the South Park universe's EB Games and I didn't just screw up while typing it. Anything else that looks like a typo, however, was most likely unintentional, so please feel free to let me know so I can correct it. Thank you and enjoy chapter 4!

**It Wasn't Just Once:**

**Ch:4**

"Thanks for lettin' me come along, fellas," Butters said, walking leisurely with the other four boys through South Park Mall. It was Saturday, thus the best day for indulging in pointless activities such as walking around aimlessly in a mall.

"It's no problem," Stan replied. "We really only invited you because we thought Cartman wasn't going to be able to hang out."

"I'd rather him have not been able to come," Kyle commented snidely.

"Shut your damn Jew mouth, Kyle!" Cartman yelled with a mouthful of deep-fried Twinkie. He proceeded to inhale the remainder before continuing. "Like I wanted to go with my mom to see some dumb-ass musical."

"That's okay. I'm sure your mom found some unfortunate guy to go with her. She'll probably be getting paid real nicely, too, which is good cause that means that she can keep on spoiling her bastard son."

"Fuck you! I'm not a bastard," Cartman spat back.

Kenny chuckled while Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. Butters smiled warmly. His friends were quite the characters, and he really enjoyed the time he was allowed to spend with them.

"I think I'm gonna get tacos later," Stan considered.

"Okay, but don't eat too much," Kyle said. "My mom's fixing meatloaf for supper."

"Oh, dude, I love your mom's meatloaf."

"Gross," Cartman said with disgust. "Why would you want to eat that? You'll get Jew-AIDS."

"Jew-AIDS?" Butters questioned.

"Yeah. It's like regular, gay AIDS, except a lot worse. Your nose starts swelling and your throat closes up. That's why Jews all talk the way they do. And you get all these open wounds all over your body,"

Kenny laughed. "(Like herpes?)"

"Yeah, or syphilis," Cartman replied, receiving a glare from his hooded friend.

"I never heard of any other kind of AIDS except regular and Super-AIDS," Butters contemplated.

Kyle turned to scowl at the boy. "That's because it's not real!" he exclaimed. "Do you have to believe everything Cartman says?"

A short walk later, the boys came across a leather shop. A brown aura flowed out of the doors, creating a distinctness from the white glows of its neighboring shops.

"Hold up," Stan said. "Let's go in. I need a new wallet."

The five entered the leather store, their lungs instantly filling with the unique smell. Belts and jackets hung from racks across the store, and between those, several counters stood covered in wallets and the like.

"Dude," Kyle said, "this is all real leather. There's no way you can afford this."

"Yeah, but they have some good knock-offs in the back. I got my last one here."

"And how long have you had that one?" he asked. "Less than a year?" They reached a table with a layout of imitation leather wallets on top. Kyle picked one up and inspected it. "I dunno. These look pretty cheaply made." He put it down and looked about the store. "Of course, everything else is too expensive. I wouldn't buy from here. Check out other places first."

"God, you're such a Jew," Cartman scoffed, picking up one of the nicer wallets from a neighboring display and letting it roll open. He proceeded to bend and fold the nice leather until it became soft and loose. "Who cares. Just buy your stupid wallet, Stan."

"You know," Butters started, "my Aunt Nellie use to..."

"God Butters," Cartman loudly interrupted. "We get it. Your aunt is at your house. That's old news. Boring."

"Cartman, quit being an ass-hole," Kyle demanded. "Maybe we want to hear about his aunt and uncle."

"That guy's a fag," Cartman bluntly stated.

"Dude," Stan said disapprovingly.

"What? The guy wears socks with sandals. That's just not right. Besides, I thought you didn't like him anyhow."

Butters mashed his knuckles together. "I like him. He's my uncle."

"No," Cartman said. "You like your aunt. I met them before when I went with you to LA. You clung to your aunt, but you practically avoided your uncle the whole time."

"Actually," Stan began, "you do usually only talk about your aunt. I barely remember hearing anything about your uncle." he shook his head. "Of course, that doesn't mean Butters doesn't like his uncle. It's just that your aunt's more interesting, right?"

Butters thought for a moment. "S-sure. I guess that's right."

A moment later, the group left the store, Stan with a new wallet in hand.

"I can't believe you bought that after what I said," Kyle complained. "You never listen to me."

"So what do you guys wanna do now?" Stan asked, ignoring whatever shit his friend was saying.

"I'm hungry," Cartman whined. "Let's go back to the food court."

Kyle gave his usual look of disgust. "You already ate, like, three fried Twinkies. Do you really need anything else right now?"

Before Cartman had a chance to retort, the group unintentionally walked upon a new attraction. A short, dark hall lined with posters leading to a set of escalators lay before them.

"Dude," Stan said enthusiastically, "when did they build a theater inside the mall?"

"I don't know," Kyle replied. "Isn't this where the Hot Topic use to be?"

A man in a blue suit crept up to the boys. He was tall and thin, looming over the five with a conniving eager playing on his features. "Ah," he began, speaking with a slow, deep intonation, "I see you like my creation."

"Creation?" Stan questioned.

"Yes. You see, I am the proprietor of this 'theater.' You can buy your tickets upstairs if you'd like." With that, the man walked away, rubbing his hands together with a small grin which the boys naturally payed no mind to.

"Dude, let's go see a movie," Kyle said with excitement in his voice. Everyone seemed quick to agree to this idea.

"(No dude,)" Kenny opposed. "(I don't have enough money.)"

"How much do you have?" Kyle asked.

Kenny pulled the bills from his pocket. "(Two bucks.)"

Cartman snickered. "You suck, Kenny,"

"Well we're gonna check out the theater," Kyle said as he and the others started down the hall. "We'll catch up to you later."

"I think I'll stay with Kenny," Butters said, making the others turn around.

Kenny shook his head. "(You don't have to do that, Butters,)" he said. "(Honest. It's no big deal. Go watch the movie.)"

Butters frowned. "But you'll get lonely. And I don't mind anyway."

Kenny wanted to convince him to go on, but he actually was preferring the idea of not being left alone. He shrugged. "(Well if you want.)"

Butters smiled.

"Hurry up you guys," Cartman whined. "Let's go see a movie." With that, the three boys went upstairs, leaving Kenny and Butters alone.

"So," Butters began, "what do ya wanna do?"

Kenny shrugged a little awkwardly. "(I don't care. Anything's fine as long as it doesn't cost any money I guess.)" While he appreciated Butters staying with him, he didn't take into account that he would have to think of something to actually do. He was friends enough with Butters, but without at least a third person to help carry on conversation, Kenny felt stupidly uncomfortable. "(I mean, you can spend money if you want... I'm not meaning to hold you back. Just, don't expect me to participate in any spending or anything.)"

"We could just browse then, and if I happen to find something I want to buy, I might. Anywhere you wanna browse?"

Kenny shook his head almost on instinct. He wasn't used to making decisions like that. Usually, he just went along with whatever the others wanted to do, so having the pressure thrown on him like that caught him off guard.

Butters thought for a moment, but when he couldn't think of anything, he asked, "Aren't there any stores you want to check out?"

"(I really don't care. Just choose somewhere.)"

"I dunno. I doubt I'd want to go anywhere you would anyhow."

"(It doesn't matter. Where are you thinking?)"

"Nowhere really. I don't mind just tagging along with you wherever you want to go."

"(I don't care if you want to go somewhere you think I wouldn't enjoy. As long as we're doing something and not just standing around while they get to sit and watch a movie.)"

"I dunno what I want to do. Whatever you have in mind is fine. Honest."

"(I honestly don't have anything in mind.)" Kenny rubbed his forehead and started walking. "(This is freaking ridiculous. Let's just walk.)"

"Wuh, o-okay," Butters said. He stumbled over his feet a bit as he started following.

After a moment, Butters giggled, and Kenny turned to him with a confused look.

"(What?)" he asked with a slight nervousness.

"That was kinda ridiculous, huh? I guess we both just didn't want to sound demanding or something."

"(That happens sometimes.)"

"Yeah, so you wait to let the other decide."

"(But the other does it too and you both end up just wasting more time than if someone just chose from the beginning.)"

Butters laughed. "Yeah."

They both laughed at that, and soon after, Butters stopped outside the EV Games.

"We can look around in here," Butters offered, walking on inside the store, Kenny following closely behind. "You like video games, right?"

"(I really only play whatever the guys are into at the moment. I don't even have any game systems. Well, except for a ColecoVision, but...)" Kenny trailed off, not wanting to admit that even that was worthless because his father, in a recent fit of rage, smashed it under his boot. "(It's busted.)"

"Aw that's okay," Butters said as if it was something worth comforting about. "If you ever wanna play somethin', you can just come over to my house."

"(Thanks, but I usually just go to one of the others' houses anyway for stuff like that. Besides, I'm not much of a gamer really.)"

"O-oh..."

"(But...,)" Kenny started, worried he might have sounded ungrateful. "(But I appreciate the offer though.)"

"Aw," Butters said, holding his hands behind his back, swinging his foot across the floor and looking at Kenny demurely, "no problem Ken."

Kenny felt his eye twitch. If it were anyone else, he would have corrected them for butchering his name, but to deny Butters seemed wrong somehow. Besides, Butters was the only person who ever called him that, and even then, it was only sometimes. Well, Tammy called him that during the short amount of time they were together even when he complained about it, but at least they weren't calling him Lenny like Kelly did. Maybe one different person screwing up his name per year was fine. Though that would eventually accumulate, so maybe that would be a bad idea. Still, he would let Butters slide.

The two looked about at the different games filling the racks, hoping something would pop out at them and make the trip worth something.

"(Oh yeah, they made a Thirst For Blood 2. Sweet,)" Kenny said happily, picking up the game case. "(It's about time. I'll have to tell the guys so maybe one of them will buy it.)"

Butters smiled at Kenny's cheeriness though he had little experience with the game. He turned around to look about the other games, his eyes scanning across the PC titles set out on the rack parallel to that one.

"Hey," he said, happily bending down to inspect a box on the bottom shelf. "They came out with an expansion pack for Hello Kitty Island Adventure."

Kenny's eyes widened for a moment before he sighed deeply, almost feeling embarrassed for the other boy because he knew he wouldn't on his own. Hearing this, Butters stood back up to face Kenny, blushing a bit.

"Gee. I guess I sound pretty immature right now."

"(No more than usual.)" Butters frowned and averted his eyes. "(Er, I was... I was just kidding. Sort of...)"

"Ah, I know."

"(You gonna buy it? The expansion pack?)"

"Nah. I have to find out if it's worth it before I invest any money into it. I'll read up on it online at some point."

"(Okay. Let's get out of here, then.)"

"Okay," Butters agreed with an exaggerated enthusiasm. As they left the store, Butters asked, "You have a computer, right? Do ya ever play anything on there anymore?"

"(We don't have internet anymore, so I don't really even use it much.)" He laughed a bit. "(And even when we did, I mostly only used it for...)" His laughter died down as his words trailed off. "(Y'know. Lookin' stuff up.)" For some reason, it felt wrong to talk about certain things to Butters even though the two were the same age and he knew he had heard it all before anyhow. It just felt odd to Kenny.

"Oh. Yeah. You must be real smart then cause most people I don't think even take the time to just look stuff up," Butters said. Kenny didn't know if he wanted to sigh or laugh, but he had to admit that there was something about Butters' naïvety. The words "likable" and "sweet" came to mind, but those were kind of weird, so Kenny didn't bother to put a word to it.

"(Were you wanting to walk around anymore?)" Kenny asked as they walked down the hall of the mall. "('Cause to be honest, my feet are getting kind of tired.)"

"That's fine. I think there was a bench near the theater. We could sit there until the others come out."

"(Sounds good.)"

The two made their way back to the theater. Really, Kenny's feet were fine. His stomach, on the other hand, was panging and he felt light headed from lack of any recent nutrition.

The pair strolled over to a bench off to the side and across the hall from the theater entrance.

"(You don't mind if we sit for a while, do you?)" Kenny asked.

"It's fine by me," Butters replied. "I don't really have the energy to walk all over anyhow." He was still lacking the proper amount of sleep, but all things considered, he was doing a much better job concealing it here than at school.

Butters yawned and Kenny closed his eyes, trying to calm his bodily functions. He could feel a tingle in the back of his neck, and it felt like a cold liquid was draining from his aching head.

"(So what were you gonna talk about?)" Kenny asked after regaining some composure. "(Back in the leather store. About your aunt?)"

"Oh," Butters started. "Um... What were we talking about again?"

"(Wallets?)"

"Oh yeah," he remembered brightly. "Aunt Nellie use to work with leather."

"(Really?)"

"Yeah. And she was good boy-howdy. She hand made wallets and belts, and they were the best around." As he said this, he beamed brightly. "But it cost more to make them than she made selling them so she doesn't do it much anymore. I actually have a wallet that she made me. Look."

Butters took the wallet from his back pocket and handed it to Kenny. He took it gingerly, unsure if it was okay to touch something with such sentimental value. He almost felt like he might soil it. Kenny inspected the wallet, which was nice, but he felt he couldn't completely appreciate it. To him, a wallet was a wallet and nothing more. His eyes weren't keen enough to spot good craftsmanship and he knew it.

"(You really go off when you talk about your aunt,)" he said.

"Wuh, I'm sorry. I guess I talk too much sometimes," Butters said.

"(No, it's good. I don't have anything to say anyway.)" Kenny handed Butters his wallet back. "(That's cool.)"

For a long while, the two sat silently, watching the various types of people who walked by. Kenny leaned back against the bench with his arms around the back while Butters leaned forward with his arms resting on his legs. Both of them felt quite content. Actually, more content than either of them had felt in quite some time. If they were to describe the atmosphere, the best word would be "nice." Not nice in the sex-crazed-teacher-having-sex-with-a-young-boy nice, but a nice that lacked any awkwardness and allowed one to feel at peace even without the aid of some pointless conversation.

"(I guess two dollars can't get you much at a mall,)" Kenny said.

"Actually," Butters said, sitting up, "they have these huge cookies for a little over a dollar. They're real good, and they're as big as your face if you can believe it."

"(Is that so?)" Kenny asked, a little distracted as his eyes followed a trio of high school girls passing by. They were the epitome of slutty teenagers if their dress-code was any sign, but Kenny didn't care as long as they were pleasant to look at.

"Kenny?" Butters said in an attempt to get his attention.

Kenny spun his head back to the other boy. "(Hmm?)" he asked hazily.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," Butters said, rising from the bench.

"(Wait,)" Kenny said. "(Want me to go with you?)"

"Well geez, Kenny, that's awful kind of you, but I think I can manage on my own," Butters said with a light giggle.

"(Oh... right,)" Kenny said, a little embarrassed.

"I'll be right back," Butters said before starting off down the mall.

Kenny leaned back in his seat, scratching his head with a sigh. Was he really so desperate to be a defender that he would make unnecessary offers?

It wasn't long before Butters came jogging back with two large paper sleeves in his hands.

"Here, Kenny," Butters said, holding one of the large sleeves out. Kenny hesitantly accepted, pulling the very large, chocolate chip cookie out. Butters sat down and pulled his cookie out as well. "These are the cookies I was talking about." He took a large bite and smiled at the sweet taste. "Mmm."

Kenny merely stared at the sweet in his hand. "(How much was it? I'll pay you back.)"

"Don't worry about it. It's a gift," Butters said, taking another bite and smiling brightly again. "Mmm."

"(I feel guilty,)" Kenny admitted.

"Now Kenny," Butters scolded, "it's not good to not accept a gift. Just eat it."

Kenny shrugged and took a bite. The chocolate flavor filled the entirety of his mouth, and the doughy texture molded easily and delightfully against his teeth and the roof of his mouth. "(Mmm,)" he said, a smile uncontrollably forming on his face the same way it had on Butters. "(That is good.)"

To be honest, at this point, Kenny would have preferred something a little more substantial, and in fact, the sweetness almost upset his stomach more, but dammit, it was a free gift. Plus it still tasted good. It was a big cookie after all.

"I told you," Butters chuckled.

They continued munching for a moment before Butters began laughing.

"(What?)" Kenny asked with a mouth full, as if his words weren't muffled enough.

"Your lap," Butters pointed.

Kenny looked down to see a pile of crumbs that had formed on his pants. He hastily swept them away. "(Whoops,)" he said, blushing a bit. "(I guess I'm kinda a messy eater.)"

"It's okay," Butters said, wiping some stray crumbs off Kenny's jacket. "It happens."

It didn't take long before the two finished their snacks, and after that, they resumed their quiet sitting as they waited for the others to return from their movie.

"(Thank you,)" Kenny said, "(for hanging out with me. I really appreciate it.)"

"It's not a problem," Butters said. "I like hanging out with you. You're a good guy."

Kenny snorted. "(I wonder what your rating scale is.)"

Butters looked to the ground and rubbed his knuckles. "I like you better than Eric."

Kenny sat up, a little irritated. "(Well I would hope so cause he's an ass-hole. Y'know, you really shouldn't let him push you around so much. It's ridiculous. He's always using you.)"

"I know that," Butters said softly. He turned his eyes to Kenny. "But I thought he was your best friend."

Kenny rose his brow. "(Well... yeah, I guess. But he's an ass-hole to me, too.)"

"But you're still friends, too," Butters explained.

Kenny furrowed his brow. "(Yeah.)" So in the end, he was the same as Butters. "(But even I don't let him do whatever he wants to me. Seriously, you've gotta stand up for yourself. I'm sick of seeing you always getting in trouble for what he's done.)" Quickly, his voice was raising. "(You're his bitch, always taking whatever he tells you to. It's fucking ridiculous!)"

Butters felt his eyes tearing up. The corners of his mouth were pulling down despite his efforts to keep a straight face. "K-Kenny, please don't holler like that."

Kenny shut up and looked at the smaller boy beside him. He had bent down to stare at the floor, and Kenny couldn't see his face. He didn't have to though to know that he was upset. Kenny leaned against the back of the bench and let his head fall back.

"(How many times do you have to take it before you've had enough? Honestly, it makes me wonder what other stuff you might be putting up with.)"

"It's just like... with Uncle Bud," Butters said quietly.

"(What?)"

Butters sat up, keeping his eyes glued to the floor. "Like what I let him... What I let him do."

"(What are you talking about?)"

Butters shook his head, trying harshly to blink his tears away. "Never mind."

Butters yelled at himself. He shouldn't have even started saying anything unless he wanted to ruin his aunt's marriage and send his uncle to prison. Surely, he didn't want either of those things, but he sure did seem like it. What kind of a bad child would want that?

Kenny tried to lean over to see Butters' face, but both their attentions were taken by the sound of a loud burst of air, like something decompressing. They turned to see large, billowing clouds rolling out of the theater's hallway, and in the midst of it, three figures stumbled through the haze, hacking and coughing as they fell to their knees. The mist dissipated, and the identities of the figures were realized.

"(Dude, what the fuck?)"

"S-Stan? Kyle?"

Kenny and Butters hurried to their friends' sides. All their clothes were tattered and dirty, and they looked quite scuffed up themselves.

"Kenny? Butters?" Stan asked, blinking up at them.

"We... We made it," Kyle said in a way that sounded as if he wasn't quite sure if he was correct.

Cartman clasped his hands together. "Oh thank God," he said. "Thank you, Jesus."

The man in the suit from earlier ran to the damage. "What have you done?"

Stan stood up and stumbled to the man. "Fuck you, ass-hole. We know what you are. You tried to feed us to your queen!"

"God dammit, I'm so sick of aliens!" Cartman yelled.

Suddenly, the man's back split open, and a large, green insect looking creature crawled out. "You fools! I almost had you! We would have had more than enough food, but you ruined everything!" His wings began to vibrate and he lifted into the air. "Don't think you have seen the last of us!"

With that, the creature shot up and out a hole in the ceiling, flying away until he could no longer be seen.

Kenny and Butters stared blankly at the three boys.

"We'll tell you later," Kyle said. "Let's just get out of here."

With that, the boys left the mall and headed for a calmer destination.

"I need to take a shower," Stan though aloud, getting a quick whiff of the underside of his arm.

"You're not the only one," Kyle replied with obvious annoyance, stretching his soiled shirt to inspect the damage. Kenny and Butters could only imagine what kind of adventures the three had been on. And in such a short time, too.

Just then, an orange car neared the group, slowing down as it pulled over beside them.

"Uh-oh," Butters groaned, recognizing the vehicle. He backed away a bit and automatically began to knock his knuckles together. The other boys recognized the vehicle as well, and they could guess easily enough what might be about to happen.

Stephen rolled down his window to reveal an obvious sour expression. "Butters," he said firmly. "I've been looking all over for you. Where have you been?"

"Wuh, I was at the mall, sir," Butters replied with his back stiff and a look of anxiety plastered on his face.

His father continued with a growing anger. "And what were you suppose to be doing today, Butters?"

"I was suppose to be helping Uncle Bud move his stuff into storage sir," Butters answered meekly.

"That's right," Stephen confirmed. "Do you have any idea how upset your mother and aunt were when they got home to hear that your poor uncle had to do all that heavy lifting all on his own? You know he has a bad back! I can only imagine what kind of pain you put him through, and all because of your selfish want to skip your chores!" At that point, the man was banging his fist on the steering wheel with each word.

"But sir, that's not what I..."

"Butters," Stephen yelled, "Get in the car. You are grounded, mister! And you will spend every waking moment making this up to your uncle for the next three weeks!"

Butters felt his stomach sink. It felt like all his stomach acid was going to come shooting up his throat. Weakly, he nodded his head. "Yes, sir."

"(Sir,)" Kenny spoke up, "(it was actually us that dragged Butters to the mall. He didn't even want to go, but we made him.)" This was not really the case. Butters had been more than glad to take off with the boys that morning. In fact, he had been enthused at the offer, not mentioning a word about abandoned duties.

"Well then maybe he should learn to stand up for himself," Stephen replied, obviously not interested in what Kenny had to say on the matter. "Butters, get in the car."

Silently, Butters walked around and climbed into the passenger side of the car. The entire time, he made no eye contact with anyone, and this continued through the duration of the car ride home.

"That poor kid," Kyle said as a passing thought before starting back down the road.

Kenny lowered his head, knowing he was unable to be of any help at all.

Butters threw himself on his bed, burying his face into his pillow and silently sobbing. He had known the risk of ditching his job, but he did it anyhow. He just couldn't stand the thought of being alone with his uncle. All the grabbing and pinching would drive him crazy. Of course, avoiding one day only ensured three weeks worth for sure to make up for it.

Butters was so angry with himself. He regretted his decision, continuously imagining how he could have done this correctly so as not to be in the situation he was now. Why couldn't he have just put up with it for one day? Then he would be safe - at least a little bit - but he even managed to ruin that.

Upon returning home, Kenny decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and take a shower himself. The water felt nice running down his head, pulling the oils from his hair and massaging his scalp. Frustration had sneaked up on him a lot lately, so he hoped this would cleanse him of even that.

He picked up the bar of soap and grimaced at the bits of hair that clung to it, some having actually managed to dig themselves into the bar. Kenny sighed roughly and proceeded to pick away the distasteful threads before rubbing the slippery bar over his chest and arms.

Somehow, Kenny always found himself getting lost in his thoughts during showers. He couldn't take his mind off of his fellow blond. Why had he agreed to go with them if he obviously hadn't forgotten about his chores? And what's more, he was very elated by the offer, insisting that they leave right away. Did he want to leave before anyone else woke up? Maybe he really didn't want to help his uncle move furniture and stuff. That wasn't hard to believe, but it didn't sound like Butters to avoid a chore. It all was beginning to seem like his uncle had a lot to do with his recent behavior.

What did he know about this Uncle Bud?

When had he first heard the name?

Butters compared him to Cartman, didn't he? Kenny couldn't remember in what context. It had something to do with being told what to do, but surely Butters wouldn't mind that.

Unless he was abusive.

Kenny shook his head, almost laughing at himself. That would be a wild assumption, he decided. It was as if he were desperately searching for an excuse to try to help someone, so much so that he felt he was beginning to create delusions simply for the sake of placating his budding messiah complex.

Still, even knowing this, he couldn't stop wondering. Something just wasn't sitting well with him about this Bud guy.

At that moment, Kenny remembered something. It was back when Chef had been brainwashed by the Super Adventure Club, and the school brought in a specialist to see if Chef had done anything to any children.

"My Uncle Bud did that to me once."

Just then, at the peak of Kenny's epiphany, the heat in the water completely vanished, a downpour of freezing cold liquid crashing down on the boy in its place.

"Shit!" Kenny exclaimed at the sudden shock.

Quickly, Kenny finished his cold shower, barely drying off before throwing on his clothes. He pulled his jacket on and bolted out the door. His scalp stung at the sudden contact between wet hair and thirty-three degree temperatures, but Kenny was too distracted and furious to care.

As he ran, Kenny mentally beat himself over the head. How did he not remember that incident until now? Why didn't he, or anyone else for that matter, do anything at the time? It was obvious, wasn't it?

Before long, Kenny was huffing and gasping for air at the Stotch's front door, banging his fist against the wood in a way that made it echo throughout the residence. Right away, Stephen Stotch opened the door with a quizzical look on his face.

"Yes?" he asked the flustered child at his door.

Despite the fact that Kenny had full intentions of barging in and incriminating the man, he quickly realized that would be the wrong way to go about it. He tried to fix his posture and catch his breath before speaking

"I... need to speak to Butters," he said.

Stephen frowned. "I'm sorry, but Butters is grounded in his room for the next three weeks."

Kenny almost didn't hear him because at that moment, he saw the accused stroll across the living room; it almost made his blood boil. He let out a low grunt as he huffed.

Stephen continued when Kenny didn't. "So if you want to talk to him, you'll have to wait until Monday."

Kenny returned his attention to Stephen. "Please, sir," he said in an attempt to be polite despite his frustration. "It's kind of important."

For a moment, it looked like Stephen was considering this, but then he shook his head. "No can do," he said, closing the door.

Kenny stomped his foot hard on the ground, barely stifling a frustrated growl. Butters' bedroom window was on the second floor to the right. After stepping away from the door, he scooped up a handful of snow from a remaining patch and molded it into a ball before throwing it at the glass.

A moment later, he saw Butters' head pop into view before quickly ducking away. Kenny scowled.

There wasn't much he could claim to have held on to from his brief Mysterion days, but one thing he was hoping he could still have was his free climbing skills.

Kenny gripped his hands on either side of the downspout that traveled down the side of the house and close to Butters' window. The metal was a bit flimsy, and the corners cut into his hands, but he held on tight and lifted his feet off the ground, placing them on the side of the house. He was definitely out of practice, and he wasn't donning the gloves he would have worn for this task, but he continued anyway, climbing with his feet walking up the wall as he put one hand above the other. Every time he grabbed hold, his palm would ache at the metal slicing into his skin.

Finally, he reached the top. Exhausted, and still worried the gutter would give to his weight, Kenny tapped on the window. It didn't take long now for Butters to throw it open.

"K-Kenny," he stammered, "what are you doing?"

Kenny quickly and jerkily grabbed onto the window sill, pulling himself in and rolling on his back onto Butters' bed where he wiped his forehead and tried to catch his breath. He looked to see that his palms were indeed cut and stinging from the sweat. He definitely wasn't as good as he had once been.

"Gee Ken," Butters said, standing beside his bed, "you really shouldn't be here right now. I'm grounded."

Kenny exhaled harshly one more time before sitting up to face Butters.

"Butters," he began, "do you not like your uncle?"

Butters seemed taken aback at first, but quickly retorted with, "Of course I like him."

Kenny narrowed his eyes more and reiterated. "Why don't you like your uncle?"

"I said I did!" Butters yelled.

"Why do you never talk about him then?" Kenny asked. He wasn't trying to be cruel. It was just important to hear Butters admit it before making accusations.

"I do," Butters replied, feigning amusement at the question, "just as much as anyone else would."

Kenny scowled at the act he was witnessing. He stood up from the bed and moved closer to Butters.

"I can only remember maybe one time you brought him up, and yet you talk about your aunt all the time. Butters, if something is going on..."

"Nothing's going on," Butters said, grabbing his stomach. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're totally sleep deprived!" Kenny yelled, grabbing the smaller boy's shoulders. "And I've only ever seen you avoid him. Don't think I haven't noticed!"

Butters looked away. "You're hurting me."

Kenny pulled his hands back, his aching palms revealing how much he had gripped. "I'm sorry," he said, "but he did do something to you once, didn't he? I remember you saying something about it. You wanted somebody to care. To ask you about it, right? Well, I'm asking now. Butters, what did he do?"

"It wasn't just once," Butters said, his words barely above a whisper. He could feel his throat swelling and aching as his stomach churned.

"What?" Kenny asked, though he heard him perfectly.

"It's all the time!" Butters exclaimed, tears pooling in his squeezed shut eyes. "Every time I see him! He won't even let me sleep."

Kenny clenched his fists despite the pain it caused. "We have to tell your parents." He could barely keep his voice from shaking.

"No," Butters said. Somehow, he forced the tears away. "It's not that bad. He never even went inside, so... So it's not that bad."

"Do you really think that matters?" Kenny asked. He was shaking all over. It disgusted him to even consider details. "You don't deserve this."

"I know," Butters said.

Kenny was surprised at the response. "If you know that, then do something about it. Why would you let something like that continue? It's just going to keep getting worse if you don't tell anybody."

"I can't!" Butters cried.

"Why the Hell not?"

"Because I can't ruin their marriage!"

Kenny didn't know how to respond to that.

"I love Aunt Nellie, and it would break her heart if she knew." At this point, Butters could no longer hold back his tears. "And besides," he continued, wiping his sleeve across his face, "it's been so long now. If I was going to do anything about it, I should have done it years ago."

"It's been that long?" Kenny grumbled. "Butters..."

Just then, the sound of approaching footsteps startled the pair.

"Oh geez," Butters groaned. "You better go before my dad gets in here."

Kenny climbed on the bed and stuck his knee out the window, getting ready to jump when he felt Butters grab his jacket. Turning to look, he saw Butters with tears streaming down his face, trembling with a look of desperation.

"Promise you won't tell anyone," he said with a strong waver in his words.

Kenny sighed, but complied anyway. "We'll talk about this later," he said. "Also, don't worry about this."

With that, Kenny flipped out the window and dove to the ground head-first. If two stories could possibly kill anyone, Kenny would be the person, but just before his head collided with the ground below, thus breaking his neck and allowing him to succeed in a daring escape, he saw a silhouette looking down at him from the window of the next room over. It was him.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: First off, I really want to thank everyone who favorited and reviewed this story so far. It makes me very happy. You may have noticed the rating has gone up to M. Nothing is really all that bad or anything. It's just to be safe. So please enjoy this new chapter.

**It Wasn't Just Once:**

**Ch:5**

Plates and silverware clattered in the awkward silence of the Stotch family's kitchen. Butters prodded pitifully at his supper, barely placing any in his mouth with each fork full. With a groan and stretch, Bud entered the kitchen donning a bathrobe and slippers, his curly, brown hair flattened and wet from a recent shower.

"I must be getting old," Bud said, rubbing his back and pulling a chair out. He gingerly sat himself on the seat and pulled up to the table. "I'm just not as limber as I used to be."

"I'm sorry I ran off on you, Uncle Bud," Butters apologized, but only because it had been demanded of him. He felt sick to have to ask for forgiveness, and he wondered if his uncle even knew his reasoning for leaving in the first place. He figured if he did, he must feel quite successful at the moment because he managed to trap his prey.

"Well from now on," Stephen started, staring crossly at his son, "when Bud tells you to do something, what are you gonna do?"

Butters fiddled with his fork, his eyes darting around the table. He held his mouth open for a moment before responding with a very sullen and defeated, "Do it. No questions asked."

Stephen smiled, and with a swing of his wrist, said, "That's right."

"Really now," Bud said, "I didn't have that much of a problem. I can understand. Kids will be kids." He rubbed his back and groaned a little.

"Yeah well Butters should know better," Linda said, turning her disappointed face to her son. "We raised you better than that. Look at the pain your uncle is in now. I hope you're sorry, Butters."

"Yes ma'am," Butters muttered. He could feel the heat building in his body, and a pressure grew over him as if gravity were forcing him down.

Nellie's fork clattered on her plate, and she spoke up defensively. "Now hold on a minute everyone. Don't you think you're over-reacting? I mean Bud, it's not like you're really in that much pain. I understand scolding Butters, but grounding him?"

"Sometimes, with children, you have to make sure they know where the line is drawn," her sister explained. "You can't go so easy on them, Nellie. After supper, Butters is going to take out the trash and go straight to bed. He won't be getting any dessert tonight."

Butters complied with what Linda had said. He finished what he could of his supper and brushed his teeth in silence with no peppy song to brush to, and as he lay in bed, no uplifting bedtime song made its way to his heart. Instead, he rolled on his side and gazed with contempt at his bedroom door, its shape contorting through his building tears.

"I should really learn to discipline myself," he whispered to himself. "It's all my fault. Just one day, and I would have been fine. And now everybody's disappointed in me. Aunt Nellie, too. Bad Butters."

Normally, he would have went on, but all his energy had left him, leaving him to lie deathly silent as tears rolled across the bridge of his nose.

Not an hour had passed before a knock came to Butters' door. He shot up and quickly rubbed his face clean.

"Come in," he called through the sleeve of his pajama shirt.

The door opened and Nellie entered with a small smile. She closed the door and sat a plate covered in a paper towel down on Butters' night stand before taking a seat beside him on the bed.

"How ya doin', Butters?" she asked, petting her hand over his hair.

"I'm fine," he replied. "I'm so sorry for leaving Uncle Bud all alone and not helping out. I can really be quite the trouble maker."

"Oh Butters," Nellie said, removing her hand from her nephew's head and wrapping her arm around him in a semi hug, "I know it wasn't your intention. You just wanted to play with your friends and forgot. I know Chris and Linda can go a little overboard with their punishments, but I hope you don't resent them for it. They really have your best interest in mind."

"Oh I know that, Aunt Nellie. Sometimes I just need to control myself. Why, some times I even..."

"Now gosh darn it, Butters," Nellie interrupted. "You're one of the brightest, sweetest boys I know, but you really need to stop being so hard on yourself."

Butters smiled a very small smile. "Thank you, Aunt Nellie. I love you." He leaned into her embrace and closed his eyes. Normally, this would have been just what he needed to hear, but the circumstances were different. Nellie could have no idea what Butters was dealing with, and he had no intentions of letting her know. Butters held against his aunt for a good while. She was warm and kind and even without her knowing it, she was the biggest comfort he had at the moment. She smelled of sweets and flowers, and she rubbed his back and stroked his hair protectively, with a delicate care. Softly, she began to hum.

"If you leave me now," she sang, "you'll take away the biggest part of me. Wooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, no baby please don't go."

Butters listened silently, letting her affection take him over, and for a moment, he thought everything was fine. Nothing in the world could be that bad because he was safe now.

After a while, Butters pulled himself away from his aunt and laid his head against his pillow. Nellie stood from the bed and walked toward the door. "I'll be going on to bed soon. I'm leaving you some pie." She held her finger to her lips. "Don't tell anyone now or else I'll get in trouble. I already made Bud go to bed. If he's gonna complain so much about his back, I'm gonna make him stay in bed all night, even if he says he isn't tired."

Butters smiled a beaming grin. "Thank you so much, Aunt Nellie."

"Oh it's no problem. Always count on me to sneak you dessert. Good night, Butters. I love you." With that, she left the room, closing the door behind herself before her foot steps vanished down the hall.

Butters crawled to the end of the bed and picked up the plate, removing the paper towel that covered it to reveal a very thin slice of apple pie. He smiled, lifting the fork and taking a piece in his mouth. The fruit slid down his throat and he licked his lips before popping in another piece. He was sure his aunt had made it.

On his knees, Butters crawled to the back of his bed and pulled up the blinds which covered the window beside him. The sky was cloudy, and no stars peaked through at all. Even so, he stared out into the darkness as he quickly, and a little greedily, finished off his dessert. He imagined this was what all those princesses locked away in tall towers must feel like, looking out from their cells with there small amount of food; the same constant worry that shook Butters' nerves befell them as well. This night, however, Butters didn't have to worry, and because of that, he could smile at the night. He wanted to smile all he could while he was able.

The next morning, Butters awoke to the sound of his father throwing open his door.

"Butters, it's time for you to get up now," he demanded. He was dressed in a suit and tie, and when Butters peeked at his clock, he shot out of bed.

"Oh no," he moaned. "It's already 9:30! Why, service starts in fifteen minutes." He darted across his room and threw open his closet, searching through the clothes before his father interrupted him."

"No Butters. You're not going to church today. You're still being grounded, so you're staying here and doing chores until we get back."

Butters turned to face his father with a frown. "Oh really? Okay, what do I have to do?"

"Well first you're going to clean the garage," Stephen commanded. He spoke with an authoritative tenor that intimidated Butters still, even after hearing it so often throughout his life. "Then you can clean the rest of the house. That means sweeping, vacuuming, and cleaning all the windows. Ya got that?"

"Yes sir."

Butters followed his father as he went down the hall, seeing the rest of the family in their formal attire.

"Aunt Nellie and Uncle Bud are going, too?" Butters asked.

"We didn't want to just sit around the house all the time," Nellie explained with a smile before walking out the door with the rest, leaving Butters alone in the house.

Butters enjoyed the thought of being home alone with no one to yell at him. He figured he could get most of his chores for the day finished before his family returned home, so he poured himself a bowl of cereal and finished it off quickly before getting dressed and setting off to work. Unfortunately, he saw the garage had gotten in worse shape than he had realized. In fact, it looked as if it had been intentionally made into a disaster area. Of course, Butters would never accuse his father of doing something like that, but things sure did seem to get messier whenever he was grounded.

Boxes that normally would have been stacked nicely were over turned, and shelves were cluttered with empty bottles, sticky with spilt cleaning solutions. The floor wasn't any better. Butters sighed and knelt to pick up an abandoned rag laying on the floor. He rolled up his sleeves and got to work throwing all the garbage he could find in a pile. The idea of finishing before his family's return was quickly beginning to look bleak.

"Good morning," Stan yawned upon sliding into a pew beside Kenny, the rest of his family taking their places next to him.

"(Morning, Stan,)" he replied through his jacket's hood, which he still wore under his suit. It was the same old blue suit he had inherited from Kevin three years earlier, and though it was a bit large on him at the time, it now held too snug to his body, the sleeves and pant legs stopping a bit short of their proper length.

"Where's Cartman?" Stan asked, turning his head to look about the congregation. "He's not here yet? I guess I wasn't running late after all."

"(Naw. We just got here, but I'm already ready to get out of here.)"

"Is something the matter?"

"(I just didn't sleep well last night,)" Kenny replied, but before he could continue, Cartman and his mother slipped into the pew behind them.

"'Sup fags?" he asked, plucking one of Stan's hairs before sitting down. "What's going on?"

"Ow. Dammit, Cartman," Stan snapped, rubbing his messy hair. Despite Cartman's rotten attitude, he always managed to be the best dressed when given the opportunity, always keeping his brown hair neatly combed to the side and his brown suit perfectly pressed.

"Hey look," Cartman said, turning the other's attention to the doors where they saw the Stotches and relatives entering the building. "Butters isn't with them."

"That's cause he got grounded, isn't it?" Stan asked with little interest in his voice. He was focusing more on picking a piece of gravel out of the bottom of his shoe.

Kenny felt his blood boil at the sight of the man he knew to be a pedophile, the thoughts of what he did to Butters filling him to the brim with anger. He walked in so humble and yet so smug because no one could see the devil inside of him, and Kenny despised how everyone treated him so kindly with arms opened so invitingly. He was fooling everybody with his nice clothes and friendly words. He didn't deserve to walk among the good people of the world, and he definitely didn't deserve to enter any church. Besides, hadn't Father Maxi made it a point to change Vatican Law in an effort to discourage such behavior?

"Butters gets grounded and _gets _to stay home?" Cartman complained. "What sense does that make? What an ass-hole."

Kenny clenched his teeth, biting back his desire to rage, and it wasn't because Father Maxi had begun preaching either. Despite everything, Kenny still felt the need to keep his mouth shut. He wanted to yell at Cartman and tell him he had no idea what Butters was dealing with. He wanted to shout to Bud at the other end of the room and let everyone know exactly what kind of a person he was. But Kenny couldn't do something like that, and though he wanted to believe it was because he had promised Butters that he wouldn't, he knew that fact was extraneous. The fact of the matter was that Kenny was a coward who had lived his life keeping his thoughts to himself. He never spoke seriously. All anyone had ever heard from him were lighthearted jokes, or at least they were taken that way. When it came to anything actually important, he was completely useless.

For over an hour, Kenny fumed, finding himself turning his head often to peak at his enemy. Bud kept a modest appearance, but Kenny imagined he must have been thinking despicable thoughts. Really, he knew the man probably didn't spend every waking moment plotting, but he couldn't imagine any other possible thoughts that could exist in his head. It was hard to believe a criminal could have an average thought process.

After the service had ended, people filed out of their rows and flooded the parking lot. People stood in groups across the lot, and the three boys were lazily strolling off to the road when they heard a woman calling for them as they passed by. They turned to see the four relatives of Butters'.

"Boys," Nellie called again. They approached the four, Stan being the first to speak up.

"Hello, Nellie," he addressed her in the casual way she had desired. "Mister and Misses Stotch. Um, Bud," Stan continued, trying to be polite.

They all nodded, but other than that, showed little interest in conversing.

"You're all Butters' friends, right?" Nellie asked, being the only one with the intentions of associating with the young ones.

"Yeah, he's cool," Stan replied.

"Well I'm so glad he has such good friends. And Eric, I'm glad to see you're still a part of his life. You seemed so close when I met you before."

"Oh yes. Butters and I are best friends. We do everything together," Cartman replied in an obvious sarcasm that seemed to go way over her head.

"I'm so glad to hear that," she said with a smile. "And you two, it's Kenny and Kyle, right?"

"Actually, I'm Stan," Stan explained calmly, as he had grown used to this sort of mix up.

"Yeah," Cartman said, "Kyle is the Jewish one." He said this with his hand to the side of his mouth as if it were taboo.

"(Where is Butters?)" Kenny asked. Really, he knew he was probably at home, but he wanted to see Bud's reaction. Unfortunately, he merely looked away, which is all he had been doing the entire time. His face held its static neutrality.

Stephen instantly put on a cross face. "He's at home, grounded. I loaded him with chores as punishment. In fact, we should probably be going to make sure he isn't slacking off."

"Oh. Well that's fine. We were about to go find Kyle anyway," Stan said. "See you later."

"Of course," Nellie said. "Take care."

Bud wrapped his arm around his wife and grinned to the boys. "Yeah, and have fun. It warms my heart to see boys your age taking the time to come to church on Sunday. Your parents must be proud."

Kenny felt the sudden urge to vomit, preferably on someone in particular. Somehow, it made him feel dirty to be praised by a man who was in no place to judge.

As the boys walked away, Kenny kept his head turned to look over his shoulder. Bud kept a smile on his face as he opened his wife's car door, but when he went to open his own, his gaze turned to the boys, and the smile was replaced with a contemplative scowl. Kenny felt a chill in his spine, and he quickly turned to look ahead of himself. He wasn't sure, but he felt as though Bud may have been looking at him. Did he know Kenny knew? He did see him fall out the window, but Kenny could never be sure of what people remembered. That, or he could have actually noticed in the church that Kenny was continually turning to look back at him, but he looked like his attention was directly on the pulpit nearly the entire time. The man was sneaky.

"Doesn't Butters just have the most polite friends?" Nellie said, sitting in the backseat of Stephen's car.

"They are quite nice," Linda agreed. "Butters never had anyone to play with before them, so I'm grateful. It's so much healthier than being stuck at home all the time."

Bud crossed his arms and sniffed. "I don't know about that Kenny boy."

"What do you mean?" Nellie asked. "He seemed fine to me. And Butters is quite fond of him."

"Yeah, but I can't help but wonder. He's obviously poor. Did you see his suit? Plus, he always looks kind of dirty. And he always has that old jacket on with his hood covering his head. Makes you think he's hiding something."

"Maybe he's just cold," Nellie suggested. "Did you ever think about that."

"It's just too suspicious. He's very sneaky. Besides, it's always the poor kids who get into trouble with the law. Always doing drugs and shop lifting. I bet he's into some pretty bad stuff. He showed up at the house when he knew Butters was grounded."

"I don't think he's bad," Nellie defended.

"No, I think he might have a point," Stephen agreed. "He even admitted to being the one who talked Butters out of doing his chores, and he nearly broke the door down knocking on it so hard yesterday. Maybe I should tell Butters not to hang around Kenny so much anymore."

"Now hold on a moment," Nellie demanded. "You're both making accusations. You can't do that. He seems like a fine boy to me, and I don't think the amount of money someone's family makes has anything to do with the type of person they become. That's a terrible stereotype."

"Nellie, you know I love you, but you can be so naïve sometimes," Bud said. "I agree with Stephen."

"I am not. And that hardly fits in with this conversation."

"You just can't see the possibility that someone could be bad. I guarantee that boy is bad news."

After an hour and a half, Butters managed to get the garage cleaned up, and before he could start on any other chores, he heard the sound of his father's car pulling into the garage.

"Butters," Linda called upon entering her home with her brother-in-law behind her. He made his way up the stairs while Linda fiddled with taking off her jewelry and dropping them on the table by the stair case.

Butters hastily entered the living room. "Hey Mom. I cleaned the garage."

"Yes, I saw. What about your other chores?"

Butters knocked his knuckles together. "Well, no. Not yet. I'm gettin' there though."

"Good. I'm taking Nellie shopping with me, so you just keep at it."

"Yes ma'am," he solemnly replied. "Wait, where's Dad?"

"He was called into work," Linda explained as she turned to go back out the door.

Butters' brow shot up. "But it's Sunday," he said.

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time. We'll be back later. Be a good boy and do what your uncle tells you." With that, Linda was out the door.

Butters slowly turned around, seeing his uncle descending the stairs, now in more casual, warm clothing. He lay on the couch with an unpleasant look on his face as he flipped through channels on the television. Luckily, he didn't seem to be taking advantage of the current situation. Not wanting to direct attention to himself, Butters quickly started off to the kitchen, walking behind the couch when Bud spoke suddenly.

"What're you doing?" he asked with an irritation in his tone.

Butters froze for a moment before he was able to reply. Nervously, he said with a shaky voice, "I'm goin' to sweep the kitchen, sir." He closed his eyes and swallowed, worrying that he may not let him go.

Bud sat up on the couch and turned to see Butters. He put a smile on his face, his tone changing almost completely. "You don't have to sound so nervous. I'm just frustrated cause me and Nellie got in an argument, so don't be so jittery."

"O-okay," Butters replied. Somehow, the sudden switch in tone bothered Butters, but he went on to the kitchen, deciding to just be thankful to be let go. He grabbed the broom from beside the trash can and set to work on sweeping the room. He dragged the broom underneath the fridge and along the bottoms of the counters and cabinets, pulling out the dust and crumbs that had accumulated there. He did this around the corners of the room before sweeping the open floor, gathering everything into one splayed out pile in the middle. He was just about to go for the dust pan when he heard his uncle walk in behind him.

"What do we have to eat in here?" Bud asked, opening up the pantry. Butters kept his back to him, now focusing on pulling the mess into one tight pile. He could only hear Bud as he rummaged through the cabinet, and even though the pile was as packed as it was going to get, Butters continued to move the broom around it. He pursed his lips and his heart was pounding so hard his ears were throbbing, but Bud just stayed there.

Finally, he heard the pantry door close, but instead of leaving the kitchen, Bud walked up behind him, placing his hands on Butters' hips. At the contact, Butters sucked in air so hard that it made a small squeak in his throat.

"I knew I was craving something in the kitchen," Bud said with a laugh, "but I guess it wasn't food, now was it?"

Butters sucked his lip, his eyes wide open at the floor as his uncle moved his palms in circles against his sides. He gripped the broom handle hard, his mind racing for an excuse to move.

Bud removed the broom from his grip. "We'll worry about that later," he said, leaning the broom against a counter where it slowly yet noisily slid sideways until it clattered hard on the floor. Butters jerked at the sound, and Bud resumed rubbing his hips, moving his hands up under Butters' jacket until he touched skin at which point he slid down until his fingers were nestled under the waist band of his pants. Bud pulled Butters to him, pressing his crotch against Butters' rump. He gyrated and breathed sloppily and loudly to a point that Butters was embarrassed to listen.

"Uncle Bud, I really need to finish cleaning," Butters explained, pulling away and picking up the broom. He snatched up the dust pan and hurriedly swept the pile into it, his shaking hands making the task more difficult as he dumped the trash.

Again, Bud came up behind him and pulled him back, making Butters drop the broom and dustpan as he wrapped his arms around the boy. "You know I love you and don't want to do anything to hurt you, right?"

"I know," Butters lied. He attempted to move, but when he did, Bud held tighter. The embrace felt loose, but when Butters tried to adjust himself, he felt like his uncle was bearing down on him, almost suffocating him. Bud pressed his face against Butters' head and inhaled, but all Butters could breath in was his uncle's restraining heat and the airborne dust around the trashcan, both of which made him feel sick to his stomach. "Uncle Bud," he muttered, "I really need to get back to work. I need to be done before Dad gets home or else I'll get... get in trouble."

"You're such a trouble maker, always getting in trouble because you have trouble maker friends," Bud said, tightening his hold and swaying side to side. Even this small amount of motion made Butters dizzy when combined with the smothering atmosphere, though he didn't understand what his uncle was talking about. Finally, Bud released his hold. "But you're right. You need to finish." With that, he left the kitchen.

Butters hobbled to the sink and slid down to sit on the floor beneath it. The floor felt nice and cool against him even through his clothes. He gasped for air and rubbed his queasy stomach, his body trembling as if he were starving though he had been eating just fine. This made him think on what Kenny had said and how he tried to convince Butters to tell somebody what his uncle had been doing. Maybe Kenny was right and things would just get worse if left alone. Still, it wasn't like what he just did was anything bad. At least, not as bad as it could have been. Butters shook his head, deciding to keep going. After all, Bud had left him alone this time. Perhaps he was going to loosen up or even stop all together.

Thoughts like this were all Butters could afford to have.

He grabbed the handle to the sink cabinet, pulling it open and grabbing the window cleaner and rag from inside it. He figured if he started on the windows, he could retreat to upstairs and hopefully away from his uncle. Butters pulled himself up and took a deep breath to help steady himself.

Butters tip-toed to the kitchen door and saw Bud relaxing on the couch again. He tried to keep his pace steady as he walked behind the couch, not wanting to bring attention to any strange behavior. He shook the bottle intentionally to make his uncle aware of what he was doing. He didn't want Bud to think he was running upstairs just to get away because he worried that could provoke him.

He darted up the stairs and into the first room which happened to be the guest room his aunt and uncle were staying in. The bed was still a bit messy from being used the night before. Strangely, Butters didn't feel as uneasy about entering the room as he worried he would. It still seemed like a regular room, even with his uncle staying in it. He wondered if it was his aunt's combined presence.

Deciding to keep a slow pace, Butters sprayed down the window and wiped away, making sure to get every smudge and streak off the glass. He cleaned his parent's bedroom window next, then his own. He cleaned more thoroughly than usual because he hadn't realized until after he started that he forgot about the windows on the first floor.

The downstairs windows should have been done first, but Butters had been so anxious to get upstairs that he forgot them. Now, he regretted returning. The thought of staying in his room until somebody else returned crossed his mind, but he knew the kitchen window was dirty and his father would surely notice if it wasn't cleaned.

Returning to the kitchen undisturbed, Butters felt he may be safer than he thought. Bud didn't move when he walked by after all. Butters sprayed the solution and crawled onto the counter before setting to work. He planned on doing this quickly, but just as he finished, he felt something grab his butt.

With a yelp, Butters spun around and plopped his butt on the counter. There Bud stood with a playfully guilty smile on his face.

"I wasn't planning on doing anything, but when you go around being so suggestive like that, how can I help myself?" he asked with a shrug. He grabbed at Butters' pants, undoing the button and pulling them toward him.

Instantly, Butters snatched the waist band, holding up the material. "Uncle Bud, please don't," he begged. "I just... just can't. I mean... I have to do stuff and I can't cause I got all the chores, and uh the cleaning and...," Butters stammered until his words became a stream of incoherent babbles which seemed to be disregarded. Instead, Bud pulled Butters' hands away from his pants and jerked them down so that they tore away from Butters' waist, sliding out from under him, along with his underwear.

The counter was cold against Butters' butt, and Bud struggled to get the green jeans off his nephew's resistant legs. Finally, he tossed the pants to the ground, and Butters recoiled his legs to his body. Bud wasn't usually so aggressive, and Butters was frightened and cold. He shivered and panted, backing up so that his back hit half against the wall and half against the window covered in sticky, pungent window cleaner.

"You're so beautiful like this," Bud said with an eerie, overly breathy voice. "I just wish you wouldn't fight me so much. It makes me so sad." He rubbed his hands against Butters' bare knees before grabbing his legs and pulling them apart. Butters wanted to object, but fear kept him obedient, only whimpers escaping his mouth as his uncle grabbed at him, playing with his sensitive areas and sliding him forward on the counter. Never had Butters felt so exposed. He felt disgusting being splayed open in such a place. He closed his eyes, trying to escape in his mind, but when something rough and wet prodded him in his most private of body cavities, his eyes shot open.

"N-no!" Butters cried, clenching every muscle in his body. He attempted to slam his legs together, but Bud quickly prevented this by placing his left arm horizontally between them, holding them apart with his palm and elbow as his right hand resumed its tinkering.

"Calm down," Bud demanded, his voice gruff in concentration. "I'm not gonna hurt you. I just need you to let me feel it."

A jolt ran through Butters' body, and he kicked his legs out from his uncle's grasp, closing his legs and pulling closer to the wall in an attempt to protect himself. "You can't!" he cried in desperation. "Please! Not inside!" By this point, tears were falling down his face. It was the first time he ever cried where his uncle could see him, and because of this, Butters feared he would become angry with him.

Bud grabbed his nephew's shoulders, his waist now pressing against the counter. "I need to feel it! I need to now because if I don't, later I'll have to put 'it' inside instead," he explained in desperation, and, in fact, it was almost as if he were intoxicated by his desire. This terrified Butters more than anything. He spoke as though he truly was losing control of himself, and Butters feared the threats given to him.

Deciding to deal with the lesser of two evils, Butters reluctantly scooted closer to the end of the counter. After all, it had been his inability to look ahead that had put him in this situation to begin with. Hesitantly, to a point that his body would barely respond to his brain's commands, he spread his legs, gripping his knees with sweaty palms as he felt the hungry eyes upon him.

"You must have wanted it after all," Bud said. He slipped his right index finger into his mouth and slurped loudly on it before pulling it out, a strand of saliva stretching between the two points. He wiped away the spit from his lips with his thumb before returning his focus to his catamite.

Butters felt his pulse at every possible point. His fingertips were hot and throbbing against his shaking knees, and despite his burning body temperature, goose bumps rose across the entirety of him. He was nauseated, and his labored breath made him feel light-headed, adding more to his desire to escape.

Butters whimpered at the agonizingly slow prodding and stretching he felt. He kept his eyes slammed shut and his head turned away in a fruitless attempt to disconnect from reality, but the great discomfort tearing into him ensured his full awareness of the situation. He sniffled and sobbed uncontrollably without receiving any acknowledgment from his violator.

Of course, he reminded himself, he chose this. Just as Uncle Bud had said, he must have wanted it. At least a little. Deep down, Butters knew he was a dirty little boy. He had told Kenny that he knew it wasn't his fault, but even if he wasn't to blame for the beginning, at this point, now that he was making decisions, maybe it was.

Suddenly, Bud tore his hand away from Butters, leaving him to writhe at the pain of his raw, puckering sphincter. "Get to your room," Bud said, throwing Butters' pants at him. The zipper whacked him on the lip, making Butters falter before hearing the sound of a car pulling into the garage and startling him. He crawled off the counter and fumbled to get his pants over his legs, but before he could get them buttoned, Bud yelled, "Now!" He jumped at that and rushed out the kitchen and up the stairs.

Butters could hear his mother and aunt carrying a conversation as they entered the house, but their words were incoherent from his room. Besides, he wasn't too interested in what they were saying, only that they were home. Butters buttoned his pants up and crawled into bed, pulling the sheets over himself. He cocooned himself in his blankets, calming his shaking and erratic breathing. His butt was sore, but his emotional pain was far greater than its physical counterpart.

For some reason, he remembered his conversation with Kenny. He had asked Butters how long he would put up with something before it became enough. Butters had said it wasn't too bad. After all, he had never been inside. Well now he had, and even if it wasn't as bad as it could have been, Butters was finally beginning to agree that maybe enough was enough. Maybe it was time to turn his uncle in. Perhaps Kenny was right about him needing to put an end to this. He had never felt so dirty, and he knew things could only get worse.

That night, Butters sat quietly in his room until his aunt retired upstairs. Upon her approaching, he cracked open his door, glad to see that she was alone.

"Aunt Nellie," he called quietly, motioning for her to enter his room. "Could, uh... C-could you come here for a moment, please?"

"Of course, Butters," she said, going in and taking a seat on the bed. Butters closed the door and followed her to his bed to sit beside her. "What's the matter?" she asked sweetly.

Butters took a deep breath and smoothed out his pants before clasping his hands together. He had worried himself into a nervous wreck, but he knew he had to speak. "Well, see, it's about Uncle Bud."

"Oh no," Nellie said. "He told you we were yelling, and you want to know what we were arguing about and why we were both so upset."

"W-what?" Butters stammered. He remembered his uncle was irritated when he first returned home, but he hadn't taken the reason into consideration.

"Oh Butters," she cooed, patting his hair, "he really just only wants what's best for you, but sometimes I think he overreacts."

"What are you talkin' about, Aunt Nellie?"

"He thinks your little friend Kenny might be a bad influence on you," she explained.

"K-Kenny?" Butters questioned.

"Yes. He thinks he seems like a trouble maker. I think he seems like a very sweet boy myself, but he said he thought you shouldn't be hanging around with his type. We got pretty upset with each other, and we got to raising our voices so we had to be away from each other for a little while."

"That's what you two were arguin' about?" Butters asked, still not understanding the details. "Why, Kenny ain't a bad guy. He's one of my best friends. I don't know why Uncle Bud wouldn't like him. Wull, he shouldn't be hollerin' at you over that."

"Oh it's okay now," she explained. "But please don't be sore at him. Sometimes he can be good at picking up on things about people, but I think he was just worried about you this time. He really is a good man, and I love him very much."

The same pressure that had been bearing down on Butters throughout the week all seemed to double up on him suddenly. "Yeah, I know," he said.

She kissed Butters on the head and said, "And I love you, too."

Butters smiled weakly. "I love you too, Aunt Nellie."

"Was that all you wanted to talk about?"

Butters knocked his knuckles together. "Well actually...," he started. "N-naw. Naw, that was it."

Nellie stood and walked toward the door. "I'm glad I could clear that up with you then. I'm about to take a shower, so you sleep well, alright?"

"Alright," Butters replied. He watched his aunt leave the room before falling over on his bed. He had forgotten the main reason he never said anything about his uncle. His aunt loved him, and Butters couldn't do anything to hurt her.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Dun-dun-dun. New chapter! Thank you so much to everyone who favorited and reviewed. I'm pleasantly surprised at how well-received this story has become. I'm so grateful, really! Anyhow, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and as always, I love constructive criticism. Hmm... I wonder if I'll ever upload anything with consistently sized chapters.

**It Wasn't Just Once:**

**Ch:6**

Sunday had been a particularly boring day, but Kenny wasn't complaining. He hadn't had to deal with any death experiences. A day of mindlessly searching for stupid Internet videos to laugh at at Kyle's house and an evening of Shakey's french fries with his friends had proven to be a relaxing change of pace. The leisure time allowed all the nagging irritations swimming in his mind to settle down for a bit. Kenny was looking forward to crashing early for a good rest before school in the morning, but, of course, the universe had to even things out. A good day would quickly turn into a frustrating night. At first, Kenny was glad to see his parents calmly watching TV on the couch. Really, he was more apathetic than happy, but just that was something to be glad about when the usual feeling would have been irritation. He hurried to his room, calmly slipping into his safe-haven and plopping onto his bed. He laid his head on the stiff, dirty pillow, letting his mind fog over as he stared absently at the block numbers of his clock which read 9:02. He was ready to let sweet sleep overtake him, but his full bladder told him he had something to do first.

Kenny didn't really enjoy going to the bathroom because it always smelled kind of funky, though he supposed the same could be said about the rest of the house. He finished quickly, but as he zipped himself back up, he heard the commotion. He could almost never catch the starts of the arguments. They always seemed to break out of nowhere with some random topic as though they had been walked into. It crossed Kenny's mind that they must start off quieter and build up, but he usually paid little attention. He decided to just creep down the hall and tuck himself into his room, but the moment he exited the bathroom, there was Kevin tromping to the living room with a dead-set look on his bruised, dirty face.

Carol and Stuart were heated in their sudden fight. They screamed, cursed, and slapped, and Kevin walked right up to them and said with a jovial smile, "The whole neighborhood can hear you."

The short silence lasted only long enough for all the air to catch in Kenny's frozen lungs as he awaited the pending eruption.

Carol shrieked with a piercing stare at her first-born son, "You need to mind your God damned business! Get the Hell out of here!"

Kenny smacked his forehead. Was Kevin really so brain-dead to think that after so many times, saying something like that would be of any good? Even though experience after experience had proven otherwise, did Kevin honestly think that this time they would find some error in their ways? And why did he always have to smile about it? Did this amuse him?

"Don't yell at him," Stuart said, quick to defend when it gave an excuse to propel the argument. "It's not his fault his mom is a drug addicted bitch!"

"Don't talk to me about addictions! You're the one who can't eat breakfast without smoking down a whole fucking joint that you bought with my money!"

"You know I only do that because my stomach tears up if I don't!" Stuart countered. "It's completely medical!"

Kenny missed the days when they would both simply laugh and say, "Mom hit Dad again," but after a while of that, all the amusement they had pretended it held broke away, leaving only the obnoxious reality. Maybe Kevin actually did find it humorous and really didn't feel the depression he did. If that were the case, Kevin was lucky. Needless to say, he was back in his own room in no time. About an hour and a half passed before the fight ceased, and soon after, a knock came to Kenny's door. He called for whoever it was to come in.

"Hey Kenny," his mother said as she closed the door and took a seat on her son's bed beside him. Kenny cringed at this, it meaning that she would be staying for a while. He sat up.

"(Hey Mom. What's up?)"

"I know you don't like to hear us yelling like that. I try not to but...," her words began to choke her, and Kenny could hear the tears coming up. His stomach churned at the thought of what was to come.

"(Don't worry about it,)" Kenny said, trying to sound reassuring though he really only wanted to cut the conversation short.

Carol cupped her face in her hands and whimpered. The tears squeezed from her eyes, rolling and getting caught on her skin every few centimeters. She squeaked out, "Why do you think I'm a bad mom?"

If it weren't for tact, Kenny would have rolled his eyes, sighed, and groaned right then. It was the question everything always came back to regardless of how much he tried to stay out of it. "(I don't think you're a bad mom,)" he replied, lying through his teeth. It was his learned, immediate reply, but he still felt disgusted with himself every time. But really, how else was he supposed to reply? At times like these, he wondered if Kevin had the right idea with his brain-damage level of carelessness.

"Then why do you never spend time with me?" she asked, sobbing. "Why do you always come home so late and walk right through? You avoid me like I'm diseased."

"(I don't,)" Kenny said simply. He never knew how to answer these kinds of questions. They were dreadful, and they always managed to make time go so much slower.

"If me and your dad got a divorce, who would you choose to live with?" she asked.

Kenny knew this was a hypothetical question, – his parents would never go through the process – but he had no idea how to possibly answer. Besides, it was just another excuse for his mom to search pathetically for comfort. "(I don't know. I guess that's one of those things I'd have to actually go through to know how I'd react.)" In reality, he knew he'd just go with whatever the courts decided. Either way wouldn't make a difference to him in that situation. "(Please don't cry.)"

Carol wiped away her tears, sniffling roughly in the process. "Alright," she said, rising to her feet. "Okay. I'm gonna go on to bed. But we really should do something together. We never do anything together. I'll try to find us some time to do something together."

"(Okay,)" Kenny agreed. It was an empty promise on both parts. Kenny had no wishes to spend an awkward afternoon alone with his mom, and she herself would never get around to finding time for them. But it was nice for her, he supposed, to pretend they were making legitimate bonding plans.

"Good night, Kenny. I love you."

"(I love you, too.)"

Finally, she was gone. Kenny let out a deep sigh, falling onto his side. The back of his neck itched, and as he scratched, his hand slid against the slick flesh. He had sweated profusely in that seemingly colossal amount of time that, after checking, was really only about ten minutes. No matter how often he was forced to experience these tiring moments, he never became used to them. With a family so messed up, it was hard to relate to those that were close. Even though Stan acts like he hates his family, he and his dad are actually very close, and Cartman is a total momma's boy though he'd never admit it. Kyle has an overbearing, Jewish mother and a little brother he dotes on constantly, and Butters is so close to his aunt that he won't even turn in his uncle for molesting him for fear of harming their marriage.

Kenny groaned and wiped his hand across his face. It hurt to wonder what Butters might be doing that night. Did he have to put up with the abuse? Was he dealing with it at that very moment? Kenny pulled himself up and jerked open the window, shoving the broken broom handle against it to hold it open. Quickly, he pulled on his boots and stood on the foot of his bed, putting his legs through the window one at a time. He dropped to the ground below with a soft thud. The air was cold and windy, making the would be silent night disappear in the loud, continuous whirring of the wind. He tightened his hood and began walking to the road. He squinted at the air biting his eyes as he marched to the rusty railroad tracks. With the lack of street lights along with the overcast sky, it was hard to make out much of anything, but the familiar tracks were easy to spot for someone who was so accustom to them. He stepped up and balanced himself, walking wobbly along the metal and stumbling off the side a few times as he did so.

Walking was supposed to be the opposite of sitting in bed staring at the clock where thoughts of all sorts could rush in. Walking was meant to distract his mind, giving him only balance to focus on. Though like most things of that sort, after relying on it so many times, the method had lost its effect. Still, Kenny found himself walking the uneven steel quite often, thinking on whatever shot into his brain. Somehow, making it a point to physically move as opposed to lying around gave him the illusion that he was actually getting somewhere. Really though, it was just the same. Nothing was being accomplished.

It was hard to imagine being so devoted to a family. He knew it must make things difficult for Butters in that he had to be in such a position where he felt the need to endure pain. But surely he knew better than to think she'd prefer him to keep silent. His parents, as strict as they were, would have to protect their son if only they knew. At that thought, Kenny realized what he and Butters had in common. They both had neglectful parents. Kenny's parents never showed much care for what he was doing unless they felt the need to prove their parenthood to others, and Butters' parents believed grounding was a suitable punishment for all misdemeanors, some of which weren't even Butters' doing. It was no wonder that he wouldn't seek refuge in his parents, and of course he was stuck when it came to his aunt. He had little choice than to tell her directly, and Butters was just too nice a person to put that on her. He'd rather suffer. Even after contemplating this, it didn't help. What good were realizations? What did they accomplish?

Snow began to fall from the night's sky. The flakes were large, and they fell fast, promising a good amount to lay. Kenny headed back to his room for the night. The next morning, the ground was indeed covered with sparkling white snow, but three inches wasn't much of a deal. Bright and early, the children came into the school a little at a time. Many children stood in small groups throughout the hallways, and a few others went on to sit in their classrooms. Kenny decided on the latter as Stan and Kyle seemed preoccupied with other things, and Cartman had been absent from the bus stop, apparently running a bit late. Kenny was fine with this as he had neglected to finish his weekend science homework, and now he was hurriedly scribbling down answers that were quite a bit less than exemplary. He was just finishing up when he saw Butters enter the room.

Kenny was glad to see that Butters looked well rested. He could only hope that meant he was left alone for the weekend. Butters slid into his desk, looking a little more like his typical bubbly self, but Kenny wasn't ready to dismiss the idea that he was only being defensive.

Butters turned in his desk and said with a smile, "Mornin' Kenny," before turning back and laying his school supplies neatly on his desk.

Kenny leaned forward to reach the other boy. "(Hey,)" he said quietly, grabbing onto Butters' shoulder.

"Yeah?" Butters asked, his eyes wide and attentive as he awaited for Kenny to continue.

"(How are things?)"

"Not too bad," he replied, still smiling, but he quickly dropped it and spoke again with a more somber tone. "I guess I don't have to pretend to you."

At that, Kenny worried. "(What's the matter?)" he asked, keeping his voice lowered so the few students in the room wouldn't pay any mind. "(Are things bad at home?)" It felt dumb to even ask that question.

Butters fiddled with the shreds of paper in the spiral of his notebook as he pursed his lips. "Hm. I-it's not as bad as it could be."

"(But it's still bad,)" Kenny said. He wasn't enjoying this back and forth. "(I know I've already said it, but you really should tell somebody. Hell, if it comes down to it, you could even tell Mackey.)"

"Kenny," Butters said, interrupting him, but he didn't continue.

Kenny remained silent for a moment before speaking again. "(Did anything happen this weekend?)"

"Um," Butters started. "W-well, that's. C-can I maybe... Maybe tell you a little later?"

With a response like that, Kenny couldn't help but worry. "(Are you okay?)"

Right at that moment, Cartman slammed into his desk. "Well," he started, interrupting the conversation, "apparently the student council is a dictatorship rather than the democracy it claims to be."

Though for a short amount of time, Cartman had held presidency, the status had since been returned to its rightful owner. Yet despite past circumstances, he still possessed no restraint in his passion for finding problems with the council's politics. Because of this, most of the people around him simply ignored these rants, and Kenny was especially quick to disregard whatever the current dispute was.

"Wuh, what's the matter, Eric?" Butters asked. Suddenly all his energy focused on his sympathy. Kenny furrowed his brow, finding it harder and harder to continuously witness Butters' act. Or was it actually possible for him to switch off his painful memories? If so, would this constitute as a blessing or just more damage? Either way, Kenny just wanted Butters to ignore whatever Cartman had to stay. He wasn't worth putting on a nice face for.

"Don't indulge him, Butters," Kyle said as he and Stan took their seats. Kenny was grateful for Kyle's words at that moment. It may have been hypocritical, as he then proceeded to dive right into an argument with Cartman, but at least he broke Butters away from it. After all, he was just the type of person to be easily persuaded into going along with whatever stunt Cartman wanted to pull.

"No. Don't act like I'm mad about nothing. Do you know what they're doing? They're raising the price of snacks in the cafeteria by seventy-five cents each," Cartman complained.

Wendy entered the room in a huff, quickly marching up to the group. "Cartman!" she yelled angrily. "Thanks a lot for completely wrecking the library, fat-ass."

"Go change the prices back," Cartman demanded. "Who gave you the right to starve the students of this school? To force this on us all of a sudden?"

"We aren't starving anyone," Wendy defended. "The extra money is going to needy families in Kenya. If anything, we're helping children who can't get enough to eat. And I didn't force anyone. I merely suggested it to the principal, giving my personal views on the subject, and she spoke to the school board about it. They approved the idea and the school set it into motion."

"You coerced her."

"No, I persuaded her. And it's for a good cause!"

"Oh, and what? You're fine with hurting one group for the sake of helping another? You're making us suffer. What about the poverty here? You don't give two shits about them because you're too busy trying to show the world how caring you are by trying to solve everybody else's problems instead of actually helping the youth here. The place you govern. What about our poverty? What about Kenny? How is he supposed to eat?"

Kenny furrowed his brow at the comment, but otherwise kept quiet.

"Look, all the recommended food is still the same price. It's only the food at the snack bar that has been raised. Even the daily dessert is still the same."

"So just because Kenny isn't suffering as bad as them, he's not as important?"

"(I don't buy from the snack bar,)" Kenny explained.

"Because it's too expensive!" Cartman exclaimed.

"(I didn't before the price changed,)" Kenny said, "(I didn't even know it changed.)"

"Shut up, Kenny," Cartman said. "The fact still remains that your actions are having an adverse effect on our school. It's detrimental to the students' well-being."

Wendy rubbed her temple. "It's not that I don't care about this school. Other children are hurting, and in larger quantities than we have here. This is a good cause for them, and it's not hurting anyone here. So what's the problem with being charitable to a different group when it's not causing any problems for the one I'm over?"

"Well why aren't you charitable with us?" Cartman asked.

"Because people here aren't as underprivileged! When you have two groups and one is hurting more than the other, it only makes sense to help the one less fortunate."

"We still have problems you ignore!" Cartman exclaimed.

"Whatever 'problems' you're talking about are so small they aren't worth worrying about."

"So you're admitting the school has problems you're ignoring."

"I'm admitting that whatever problems the school has are very small in comparison to the major problems of the world, and with all the suffering in the world right now, we should pay more mind to helping those who really need it. It's all a matter of helping those in bigger trouble. Everybody has problems, but those are so petty compared to the problems of, say, an entire nation."

"(How can you compare the pain of one individual to an entire group? Who are you to say their problem's aren't more important?)" Kenny asked.

Wendy turned her head to him. "What?" she asked, surprised at the sudden question.

"(A group is just a bunch of individuals. Why should they get better treatment than the ones all alone, suffering by themselves? A problem is still a problem, and I'm sure whoever is suffering by themselves would hate to hear you say that they aren't important.)"

Wendy thought for a moment about how to respond. "Well," she started, "the reason those individuals suffer alone is because they don't speak out and join or form a group to receive the help. They suffer silently because they choose to remain silent."

"(No, you're right. They should,)" Kenny agreed. He pulled his hood down, needing to catch a cool breath. "They should. But they don't because everyone is always telling them things could be worse. What you're going through is bad, but it's not that bad. It could be worse. Look at what this person over here is going through. It's so much worse than your situation. A family may be dysfunctional, but at least they don't beat their children. Well what about psychological abuse? This girl got raped, and this kid only got molested. Who's to say which is worse?"

"Kenny," Kyle said, "what the Hell are you talking about?"

Butters quietly stood from his desk and steadily walked out the door. He went completely unnoticed by everyone but Kenny who replied absently with, "I-I don't know," before standing himself. "Be right back," he said, going hastily for the door. He spotted Butters a ways down the hall, quickly following after. "Butters," he said, hurrying over to him. "Hey Butters."

Butters stopped just beside the bathroom entrance and leaned against the wall. Kenny walked up behind him, placing a hand on his back. Quickly, he shrugged it off before turning around.

"You didn't have to go and make such a big deal about somethin' like that." Butters said, looking sternly at him.

"Well somebody has to," Kenny explained. "Seriously, you need to do something. I know you don't want to let it continue. It's just gonna get worse. You have to tell somebody."

"I did!" Butters blurted out, his face contorted in discomfort.

For a moment, Kenny was speechless. "You did? And they didn't do anything?" He feared Butters must have confided in his parents already and they turned away. Had they allowed his uncle to continue either through denial or, God forbid, condoning? The thought was sickening. "Who?"

Butters exhaled shakily before turning his eyes to the other boy, and as he stared broken into Kenny's eyes with his piercing gaze, he said, "You." The blinders fell from Kenny, and he felt dizzy from the disillusioning. "I told you," Butters continued, "and it didn't do me any good. Now all you do is... is holler at me about how I should do this or I should do that. Well I can't! It's just not... something I want to do." Butters turned away, placing his hand on the bathroom door. "Just let it go."

Kenny fell back against the wall, rubbing his hand over his face. "No," Kenny started. "No, I can't just let this go. You're right. You told me, and I've not done a damn thing. I'm sorry, but I don't know what I can do other than push you forward. Please, Butters," he pleaded, "Don't let this go on."

The skin of Butters' fingers lost their color as he gripped the doorway. Finally, he released his hold and pulled himself into the bathroom. Kenny sighed, turning away to head back to class. Butters returned just before the tardy bell rang, and he kept his eyes away from Kenny as he made his way to his seat. The two abstained from acknowledging one another for the duration of that class. During lunch, everything seemed pleasant aside from Cartman's complaints about snack prices, and even that was expected. The boys talked and laughed, and even Butters was smiling and replying in his ever-eager manner. However, Kenny couldn't help but notice the lack of eye-contact the two were making. But what really irked him was when he caught Butters' eye for a moment, just long enough for him to jump a little before quickly averting his gaze. Kenny furrowed his brow but kept his mouth closed. He had redrawn his hood since the incident that morning, and he felt comfortable remaining secretive about his scowl.

"Hey Butters," Stan called on the playground, holding the football above his head, "heads up."

Butters held up his hand and shook his head. "No thanks, fellas. I'm just not feeling up to it today."

Stan shrugged, saying, "Oh well," to the others as he made his way back to them. "Guess he doesn't feel like playing."

"Yeah," Kyle said, "but at least he seems better than he has been."

With that, the boys went on with their game, but while Kenny played along, he felt a strong discomfort knowing that Butters was succeeding in ignoring his problem. It wasn't that he wanted Butters to be moping around, but it seemed more like he was trying to give up. Like he was willing to accept it as a part of his life that he would just have to put up with. Over the course of the next several days, Butters was returning to his usual routine with the other boys, but Kenny couldn't help but notice the distance growing between them. The only times they spoke were in groups, and any time Kenny tried to speak with him privately, he'd quickly change the subject or cut the conversation altogether. A week passed in this fashion.

Another typical school day was nearing its end, and Stan and Cartman approached Butters as he exited the building.

"Hey Butters," Stan called, coming nearer with a basketball stuffed under his arm. "You wanna play basketball with us?"

Butters was pleasantly surprised. "Really? You want me to?"

"Well you'll be on Craig's team," Stan explained.

"That dick owes us a rematch and Clyde ditched so they're short a player," Cartman explained. "Apparently Clyde's mom is making tacos for supper so he left."

"So what do you say?" Stan asked.

"O-oh. Well gee, I dunno. I'm still grounded, but I suppose if we make it fast enough..."

At that moment, Kyle and Kenny rounded the school and walked up to the three. "So what's the situation?" Kyle asked.

"Y'know, I better just go on home," Butters decided. "I'm sorry fellas. I hope you can find someone else."

"(Oh come on. Really?)" Kenny asked.

"Uh, yeah. See you tomorrow," Butters replied before taking his leave.

"What's his deal?" Cartman asked.

"(He's just avoiding me.)"

"Why?" Stan asked.

"(I don't know.)"

"That's stupid, Kenny," Kyle said. "Butters isn't avoiding you."

Butters ended up returning to his room right after school that day. His parents were at work, and his aunt and uncle were busy house hunting. This was good for Butters. He was able to finish his homework and relax without any worries, but once that was done, all he could do was lie on his bed and ponder. He couldn't help but think about what Kenny had said. He was so set on Butters needing to turn his uncle in, but Kenny already knew his reason for not. Still, if Kenny could be that adamant about the severity of the situation as it was, Butters could only imagine how he'd react if he knew about the most recent incident. Butters contemplated this, weighing the options of turning him in or putting up with it for the rest of his life. Despite his understanding of the impending suffering, he was really leaning toward putting up with it. Luckily, he hadn't had any alone time with his uncle recently, and things had been relatively pleasant. He lay down on his bed, eyes heavy and ready to fall right into sleep, but just before he could be given that pleasure, a beating came to his window.

His eyes popped open, and it took a moment of blinking at the dark before he understood what he was hearing. Cautiously, he crawled to his window and pulled the curtain aside. What he saw made his eyes widen, and he hastily lifted the window before saying, "Wuh, hey Eric."

"Butters," Cartman said from his spot atop the ladder, "get your bag. Let's go." Snow was falling fast outside, and the wind blew some of the flakes into the room.

"What are we doing?" he asked nervously, shivering at the cold.

"We're going to the school to take back all of what they've stolen from us," Cartman explained.

Butters thought for moment, and with a smile he replied, "Well okay."

Butters emptied out his backpack before descending the ladder after Cartman, and the two quietly made their way to the road.

"What did the school steal from us that we have to take back?" Butters asked.

"They think they have the right to raise the prices of snacks," Cartman said. "They want to take away our right to enjoy our only simple pleasure in life."

"I dunno," Butters said. "It sounded like a good cause."

Cartman scoffed loudly. "So they claim while ultimately lowering us to starving dogs whimpering at the school's fascist doorstep. That's why we have to take back what's rightfully ours!"

"Oh. Well I guess that makes sense."

In the dead of the night, not a soul was to be found in the abandoned halls of South Park Elementary. The cafeteria was silent aside from the small rustling of Cartman's lock-picking. The window opened with a shuffle, and Cartman pulled himself in quietly, Butters clambering behind. The two headed for the snack-bar, a set of racks placed at the exit of the food line, and set to work there.

"Open your bag," Cartman ordered, pulling a bundle of chip bags into his arms. Butters complied, holding open his backpack as Cartman dumped the 3 ounce bags inside.

"Uh, hey Eric," Butters started, "are you sure this is such a good idea? I mean, this is like theft."

"Butters," he scoffed, "I already explained this. We're not the ones stealing. The school is. We're just taking what we've payed for." Cartman continued to cram snack cakes and chip bags into Butters' backpack. "Dammit. Don't you have a bigger bag?"

"But isn't... i-isn't this kinda a lot?"

Cartman stopped abruptly and sighed in irritation. "You really are being a little bitch today."

Butters' brow shot up. "Huh?"

"Kenny said you were acting like a little bitch and ignoring him and stuff," Cartman explain. "What's up your ass that made you shove something up his ass?"

"Ah gee. I didn't think he noticed."

"You were ignoring him? Why? I thought you two got along pretty well. Like two little fourth-wheel buddies or something."

"W-well, we do get along fine. It's just that... that my parents don't really like him is all. They think he's a bad influence."

Cartman let out a short, obnoxious laugh. "Yeah. Poor kids get into all sorts of trouble."

"Y-yeah," Butters said, looking down with pursed lips. He felt a bit guilty using an excuse provided by his uncle.

Cartman zipped up the overstuffed backpack and pushed it toward Butters before dropping his own off his back and opening it up in front of him.

"Gee. This sure is a lot of food. What made you wanna do this so bad anyway?" Butters asked, struggling to pull his bag out of the way.

"Because I'm fighting against something I disagree with," he explained, dropping packs of Pop-tarts into his bag. "What do you do when someone forces you to do something against your will? You fight back. You say, 'I'm not gonna put up with your shit,' and you kick 'em in the nuts!"

Slowly, a small smile grew on Butters face. "Yeah," he said meekly. "Yeah! You're right."

"You're damn right I am! Now don't just stand there; hold my backpack open. I'm gonna dump the ketchup packets in there, too. No wait," Cartman laughed, "you do that. I'm gonna go write on the lunch menu."

After the mission had been completed (and the chalk board was riddled with curse words and crude drawings of penises), the two lugged their over-packed backpacks through the thick snow to Cartman's house. They emptied the contents onto the floor. Butters was glad to lighten his load, his shoulders feeling as though they might fall off after the strenuous trek. After that, they returned to Butters' house where he climbed back through his window before Cartman took his ladder, warning Butters to keep his mouth shut about what they had done that night. Butters was quick to agree, seeing it as just another occasion. By this time, it was already quite late, well after 1:00 A.M., and Butters was fortunate that night. He hadn't been caught leaving or returning, and his uncle showed no intention of invading. However, Butters was very much aware that this was not the norm. He had been lucky for the past week, and it was only a matter of time before Uncle Bud decided it was time for another round. Cartman was right when he said to fight against what was wrong, but Kenny had been saying this all along. He had fought so hard against what Kenny had said, and yet when Cartman unknowingly gave the same message, he felt enlightened. In the end, all it took was reinforcement from someone completely uninvolved. He had to have two people push him separately before the reality of the matter really hit, and when it finally did, it hit hard.

The four boys were waiting for the bus at the bus-stop just like most mornings, Cartman standing smug in his victory the previous night. "Y'know," he started, "I wouldn't be surprised if someone finally said enough was enough and took action against the outrageous price increase."

"Did you steal all the snacks in the snack bar, Cartman?" Kyle asked with little interest.

Cartman gawked in disgust. "No I did not. God, Kyle."

Kenny laughed and said, "(Yeah, he probably ate it all instead. Fat-ass.)"

"Whatever Kenny. Why don't you go sniff some more glue, poor boy?" Cartman said. "Everyone knows your type are trouble. Just ask Butters."

"(What?)" Kenny asked.

"Yeah. You were talking about how Butters was ignoring you. Well he's ignoring you because his parents told him you were a bad influence," Cartman explained, bursting into laughter right after.

"(Shut up, fat-ass.)"

"No dude, I'm seriously. He told me himself," Cartman said through his laughter. Kenny turned his eyes to the ground.

"Dude," Kyle said, "I really doubt that's what's going on. Butters isn't like that." Kenny knew better than to take anything Cartman said to heart, but he worried there might be some truth to it. He had assumed the distance was due to Butters' dislike of his persistence, but this seemed plausible. He had always been a bit paranoid about that sort of thing.

Butters was up bright and early that morning, and after getting dressed for the newly snowy day, he hurried downstairs. He was delighted to see the stack of pancakes erected at the center of the kitchen table and his aunt cleaning up at the stove they were prepared on.

"Wowee," Butters said giddily as he took his seat. He inhaled the scent, noticing a tinge of blueberry in the mix. "You made pancakes, Aunt Nellie? You're the best!"

Nellie laughed as she took the seat across from her nephew. "Well go ahead and dig in. But Butters," with this, her smile turned to a frown, "there's something I have to tell you about."

Butters had just slapped a cake onto his plate when she said this, and he turned his eyes up to her with a concerned frown. "What's the matter?"

"I start my new job on Monday, which is great, but you know I can't drive every day from here to Denver," she explained.

"You're leavin'?" Butters asked with a pitiful pout.

She nodded. "This weekend. I'm sorry," she said, "I just hate leaving you all the time."

"I know, but I understand," Butters said. "I sure am gonna miss you an awful lot though." Everything he said was the honest truth, but he was filled with relief that his uncle wouldn't be giving him random nightly visits any more. This was a familiar feeling. He had felt it at every holiday visit he had with his aunt and uncle for the past four years. At time of departure, whether it was his parents and him leaving or his aunt and uncle leaving, he would dread parting with his fun, loving aunt, but at the same time, he would be relieved to get away from his uncle. It was a terribly uncomfortable contrast to be crammed into one occasion.

"Oh," Nellie moaned, reaching over the table to pet her nephew's head, "I'm gonna miss you, too."

Stephen's voice resonated as he and Linda entered the room. "Am I hearing tearful good-byes already?" he asked, taking his seat beside Butters with Linda taking the head of the table. "You aren't leaving yet are you?" he jokingly asked as he filled up his plate.

"Well I had to tell him about it now so he'd understand what you were gonna say," Nellie explain, giving Stephen a sly smile.

"Right, Butters," he said with his usual commanding voice that made Butters sit at attention.

"Y-yeah Dad?"

"As of today," he went on.

At that moment, a large hand ruffled Butters' hair, interrupting Stephen. "You're not grounded," Bud said enthusiastically as if revealing a grand surprise, which, for Butters, this kind of was.

"R-really?" Butters stammered in shock as Bud rounded the table to sit by his wife and load up his plate.

"That's right," Nellie smiled. "Why, there's no point in you bein' locked up in your room all the time when we're just about to leave. It'd be like bein' grounded on a vacation."

"Aw gee. Thank you," Butters said with a heart-warmed smile.

"Have you decided on a house yet?" Linda asked.

Nellie took her husband's hand and spoke dreamily. "I think we've found the perfect home. It's so lovely with two floors and a basement. And the backyard is so big. It has four bedrooms and two baths, and the master bathroom has this real big tub that'll be perfect after long days at work."

Linda placed a hand on her cheek. "It sounds like a dream."

"And the best part is it's not that far away," Bud said, and with a chuckle he said, "so that'll make holiday visits much more convenient."

"Oh yes," Nellie agreed excitedly. "It's so wonderful. I know when I was young, all I wanted was to get out of Colorado, but coming here again has just made me so nostalgic."

After that, the family finished up there breakfast. Butters stood and took his plate to the sink as he said, "Well I'd better be gettin' to school."

"You know what," Bud said, taking Nellie and his plates to the sink as well. "It snowed a lot last night, and it's pretty cold outside. Why don't I drive you to school?"

Butters bit his lip. "Um... N-nah, that's okay. I mean, uh, I appreciate the offer, but I was just gonna ride the bus. I mean, I'm used to the snow and all."

"Oh come on," Bud persisted. "I won't take no for an answer. I've gotta stop by the store anyhow. Get your backpack. I'm sure I remember where the school is."

"Well o-okay," Butters complied. He grabbed his bag from beside the table and pulled it onto his back before slowly walking to the door.

"Butters," Stephen called, "aren't you forgetting something?"

"Oh," Butters muttered before putting on a smile. "Thanks Uncle Bud."

Bud bundled himself up in his big, brown coat and opened the front door. "My pleasure," he said, placing a hand firmly on Butters' back as he walked outside. The two trudged to Bud's car, Butters rounding to the passenger seat. He climbed in and dropped his bag to the floorboard before slamming the door shut and fastening his seat belt. Bud closed his door and started the ignition, backing out of the driveway in silence as he concentrated. Butters sat straight and stiff against the back of the seat. He wondered if he should speak to break the awkward aura while at the same time preferring to remain silent. Unfortunately, Bud decided to take this initiative.

"I know you went out last night," he stated firmly. Shocked, Butters looked at his uncle. He was driving with his eyes fixed on the road.

"You... Y-you do?" Butters could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and his breaths felt thick.

Bud's expression softened. "Don't worry," he said, and then with a warm smile, he continued, "I won't tell. Your secret's safe with me."

"It is?"

"Well sure," Bud replied brightly. "I mean I understand. You can only stay cooped up in your room for so long. Heck, even I've snuck out when I was a kid. It's just part of being young I guess."

"Oh," Butters said, a little surprised. "Well thanks." Bud turned his eyes to him and gave him a quick wink of recognition before turning back to the road. Butters smiled. "It's the next turn on the left."

Finally, Bud pulled into the school's drop off zone. "I'll see you later."

"Bye Uncle Bud," Butters beamed. "Thanks for the ride." He opened his door and brought his legs outside, but as he began to stand, he felt his uncle's hand suddenly grab his upper arm, preventing him from standing completely. "U-Uncle Bud?" Butters said, worriedly looking back at him. Bud's face was stern and his jaw was tensed as though he were biting on something. His eyes were wide against his slightly furrowed brow, filled with something aggressively desperate that Butters had glanced before. "Uncle Bud?" he asked again, sure he must look terrified.

Suddenly, Bud released his grip, bursting into a hearty laughter. "Ah. Have a good day, kid." With that, he closed the door and drove off. Butters dropped his bag to the ground, his body shaking. He bent to pick it up and instead fell to his knees. He swallowed hard, gripping the straps as he pulled himself off the ground, his pant legs now soaked. He held his bag to his chest as he walked to the doors.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: So my profile has had the message that I would continue this story during the summer. Well you know what they say: summer, fall, what the hell's the difference? Seriously though, I hate that I put this story to the side for so long. College kinda filled me with this icky, sticky self doubt; and then it had been so long I didn't know what to do. But I'm over that, and I'm back now! Thank you to everyone who has liked/reviewed this story. I hope you've not lost interest, and hopefully these new chapters will be even better. Also, the show has developed so much! Holy cow! So of course I've had to incorporate some important show elements. I hope you all enjoy that.

**It Wasn't Just Once**

**Ch 7**

Butters had arrived at school before any of his classmates. He was still shaken up from his uncle's behavior. The way that he had grabbed Butters and stared at him so intently burned itself in his memory, leaving him feeling wary. Something in Bud's eyes definitely felt dangerous, and Butters was sure that he did not want to feel so threatened again. He thought about how adamant Kenny had been since learning of Butters' painful secret, and the fuel left from Cartman's passionate, yet coincidental, words of encouragement still swam in his gut.

Slowly, the halls began to fill with students. Kenny opened his locker and threw his bag inside when Butters approached him with soft steps. "Kenny," he said softly, yet with firm decisiveness, "can I talk to you?"

Kenny didn't need any clarification. "(Sure,)" he nodded. He shut his locker with a clang, and the two slipped away to the bathroom. Kenny leaned against the sink while Butters fidgeted in front of him. Clearly, this was a heavy topic for Butters, and as much as Kenny wanted to be patient, they didn't have much time before class. Still, he found himself having almost as much trouble bringing up the subject as Butters. "(Did...,)" he finally started, trying to find a tactful way to move the conversation along. "(Did something happen? Are you okay?)"

"They're moving out this weekend," Butters said.

Kenny sighed in relief. "(That's great!)" he replied, straightening up. He had been sure that he was going to hear something horrible.

"But I don't want," Butters struggled to say, "to let... let him go."

Kenny slumped back against the sink and looked at his feet. "(Yeah, that's right. He'd just come back, huh?)"

"When I think about what might happen. Weekends. Holidays. They're closer now. I'm... I'm scared." Butters let out a shuddering breath, his stomach turning to knots. "I'm really scared."

Kenny rubbed the back of his head and muttered, "(No shit.)" He didn't know what else to say. Butters was trapped, and Kenny had said all that he knew to say already. He racked his brain until it ached trying to think of what else he could do, how else he could save Butters, but that intuition had been lying in the corner of his closet for a long time. What Butters said next surprised him.

"So I was thinkin'... Thinkin' maybe it's time I put an end to it."

Kenny lifted his head again. "(Really?)"

"Yeah. You were right, Ken. I'm not safe. Why, you've been sayin' that from the start. It's about time I started listenin'."

Kenny stared at Butters for a second, expecting that Butters was sounding a bit too bold for himself. But he looked serious. A grin spread on Kenny's covered face, his head filling with pride. Even though time had been sliding uselessly by, his words finally worked. He slapped Butters on the shoulder and said, "(Kick ass! You show that son of a bitch who's boss.)"

Even on the way to class, Kenny didn't drop the smile behind his hood. Butters was finally going to stand up for himself. It was, as far as Kenny knew, something he wouldn't have done if it weren't for his persistence and support. Throughout the day, Kenny and Butters shared some determined and knowing nods. But although Butters returned Kenny's looks with a smile, he was actually very nervous. He didn't feel like smiling. In fact, thinking ahead too much made him feel nauseated. He stuttered more than usual whenever he had to talk, but nobody paid these quirks any mind. Even Kenny's perception was clouded by happier thoughts, being too under the impression that Butters was already safe. No, Kenny knew that Butters must surely be nervous, but that would not be a problem once he faced his fears, Kenny figured. In Kenny's imagination, the events were greatly romanticized in that all Butters would have to do would be to passionately yell at his uncle to keep his hands off of him and run to his aunt or parents to rat the bastard out. Then the police would come and arrest Bud after prying a screaming, cursing Nellie off of him, leaving him with so many scratches that his face would be unrecognizable. Butters would be safe, and Kenny would be his strength.

When the lunch bell rang, Cartman nearly toppled his chair over as he booked it to the cafeteria. In the past week, Cartman had attempted to picket the cafeteria entrance three times in the opinion that the raised snack prices were unjust. Each effort was unsuccessful. The rest of the student body simply wanted to sit down, eat their lunch, and chat. It seemed that today would be just another of his failed attempts to keep students from buying school lunch, but by the time that Kenny, Butters, Stan, and Kyle arrived together, a crowd had already formed around the heated argument between Cartman and Wendy.

"I already know it was you! It was all you," Wendy shouted, jabbing her finger into Cartman's chest.

Cartman swatted her hand away and brushed off the front of his jacket. "You have no proof that I have any connection with anything. It seems to me like it coulda been any student with a brain in this school. Someone who realized just how unjust your little inflation deal is. Honestly, I wish I had been the one to do it. Been the master mind behind this glorious act of vigilantism. But I couldn't."

"And why not?" Wendy asked doubtfully, crossing her arms.

"What?" Cartman stammered.

"What's your alibi?" Wendy demanded.

"Oh. Well. I... was at home all night. Taking care of my poor, sick mother. She's been so faint because of her low blood sugar. Normally, I'd bring her something high in sugar to keep her feeling well, but I can't do that so easily anymore, now can I, you heartless bitch?"

"We'll see what the security cameras have to say about this," Wendy said, marching past Cartman and through the crowd of children.

Cartman began to follow her, stopping by the other boys and putting his hands on Butter's shoulders. He said, "See, this is what I was talking about, Butters. They'll put up a fight, but you can't lay down on your back and take it like a little bitch. Ya gotta fight!"

"Uh, right," Butters replied.

"That's my little buddy," Cartman said before taking off through the crowd. He rose his fist in the air and shouted, "This is liberation!" as he made his exit. It took no time at all for the students to return to order and proceeded through the lunch line. Kenny, however, found himself a bit dazed upon listening to Butters and Cartman's little exchange. So, he figured, Butters had confided in Cartman as well. And it was Cartman, not he, who had managed to convince Butters to take action. Even though Kenny had poured so much emotion into his many conversations with Butters. His brow sank hard. He couldn't imagine a time when Cartman had the opportunity to learn Butters' story. Was it this morning before Kenny arrived at school, he wondered. Was Butters truly going to fight now that Cartman, who couldn't possibly know or care as much about him as Kenny, had given him the incentive? To an extent, Kenny hoped not.

"Go Kenny," Kyle said, stuck behind Kenny as the line moved forward.

Kenny shook his head at himself and grabbed a lunch tray. How awful, he thought, that he would consider for a second that Butters should back out simply because he didn't want Cartman to have the credit. As if there was a credit. He had imagined a title of savior, but now realized how messed up he was to stroke his ego so heedlessly.

Cartman remained absent through lunch. Kyle had made a quip about how impressive it was. Butters was just trying to keep his mind off of things and stay interested in the conversations around him. Plotting out his steps for the evening only made him doubt himself. He was so shaken by how his uncle had treated him that morning that he blurted something to Kenny that seemed impossible, and the longer he stewed on it, the more he just wanted to forget about it. But Kenny had seemed so proud of him. He wasn't used to someone being proud of him. Back in the classroom, Cartman whispered to Butters from behind.

"Psst Butters. Hey Butters."

Butters leaned back cautiously. "What is it?"

"When the bell for recess rings, follow me."

"Where are we goin'?"

"Just follow me," Cartman repeated. "But nonchalant. Okay? Just shh. Okay?"

Butters nodded and leaned forward again. Kenny had seen the transaction from the corner of his eye, but he couldn't make out the conversation. He rolled his eyes. Cartman and Butters were always doing everything together. He should have figured that if Butters had a secret, Cartman would be in the know. Somehow, Kenny felt frustrated. He wanted to be the one that Butters confided in. He wanted to be the one that gave Butters advice and encouragement. When the bell rang, Cartman waved for Butters to follow him.

"(Butters,)" Kenny called before they had a chance to leave the room. "(Wanna throw the football back and forth?)" he asked, figuring he could use some one on one time to re-establish his role as the caring friend.

Before Butters could answer, Cartman grabbed him by the back of his collar and pulled him to himself. "Ehm," he started, clicking his tongue, "I don't think so. Me and Butters have something very important to discuss."

Kenny scowled. "(Come on, dude.)"

"Sorry Kenny," Butters said glumly before following Cartman out of the room, and yet his foot steps seemed irritatingly peppy.

Kenny kicked his foot on the floor and made his way outside. He ended up throwing the football around with the guys in his class, but he couldn't drop the feeling of being dumped. Like so many times in his life, he was thankful for his hood, because nobody could see his angry and dejected expression.

Meanwhile, Cartman and Butters slipped outside through a side exit and made their way quietly to the office window.

"Wuh-what are we doin', Eric?" Butters asked.

Cartman stomped his foot against the snow a few times until it made a thump. He knelt down and pulled a ladder up out of the snow, placing it thoughtfully against the school wall.

"Okay, climb up," Cartman commanded.

"We can't break into the office, Eric. We'll get in trouble," Butters said.

"Mackey and Principal Victoria have more important things to deal with right now. It seems there was an accident involving some loose bolts on the basketball hoops in the gym." As if on cue, a siren blared as it traveled a nearby road. "The ambulance is almost here. It'll be pulling into this parking lot. Get up the ladder."

"Oh geez," Butters said, quickly climbing up to the office window and sliding it open. The two stumbled inside, Cartman pulling the ladder in behind himself.

Principal Victoria's office was dark and quiet. Cartman ran to the filing cabinets while Butters looked between the window and the door nervously. The outer office was brightly lit with white walls, and a secretary sat with her back to the door. He hoped that she wouldn't turn around and get them into trouble. Butters was shaking with fear and adrenaline. Cartman opened a few drawers and slammed them shut when he didn't find what he was looking for. Every time he slammed a drawer, Butters cringed.

"We should be quiet," Butters warned in a whisper. "What are you looking for?"

Cartman closed the next drawer more gently and replied in a low rasp, "Security footage. I know they keep them on tapes, I just don't know... Aha." He opened a tall cabinet. On the top shelf sat a box filled with about a dozen camcorder tapes. "These must be the footage they record over." He pulled the box down and shuffled through the tapes. "They're not labeled," he said in frustration. "Which one's the one from last week?"

Butters pointed to the desk in the main office through the door. "Maybe we can watch them with that." A desktop computer sat with a camera plugged in and hidden behind the counter.

"Of course!" Cartman exclaimed. "That must be the recorder camera. The one all the other cameras feed to. The tape may even still be inside. Good job, Butters."

"But how are we gonna get it?" Butters questioned.

"You'll need to create a diversion," Cartman said.

"Me?!"

"Yes you. Run around the front and complain of an injury. Then I'll grab the camera and get out of here."

"B-but I'm not injured," Butters said.

"Hm. Good point." Cartman snapped his fingers. "Here," he said, grabbing Butters' hand and pulling him to the tall cabinet. He placed his fingers on the edge of the inside and slammed the door hard onto them. Butters let out a loud wail, but Cartman quickly slapped his hands over his mouth while Butters cradled his fingers. His right index, middle, and ring fingers were lined with an even red and blue gash, and a small amount of tears welled in his eyes. "That's good. Get those tears flowing." He released Butters and stuck the ladder back out the window for him. "Now go. And really play it up."

Butters whimpered lightly as he climbed out the window. When he made it to the front of the main office, he followed Cartman's instructions and burst through the door screaming with his fingers clasped in his left hand. "Aaah, my hand!" he yelled. "Aah, it hurts!"

The secretary stood up at once, hurrying to his aid. "Oh my God," She gasped, taking his hand in hers. "What happened? We'll get you to the nurse right away."

Quickly, Cartman bolted to the desk and yanked the camera out of the computer, cords and all. He gave the OK sign to Butters, and when he and the secretary left the office, Cartman grabbed the box of tapes and ran out the door.

Cartman waited for an hour-like fifteen minutes for Butters to exit the nurse's office, now sporting a bandage on each of the three wounded fingers. "What the Hell took you so long? You didn't have to actually go to the nurse's office."

"But... My fingers," Butters tried to explain.

"Whatever. Just take these and hide them in your locker!" he ordered, pulling the camera and box of tapes out of his backpack. "Then hide them at your house until I come for them."

Butters backed away a half step, having hoped that his involvement was over. "Why can't you just keep them in your locker and hide them at your house?"

"Because they'll expect that, retard," Cartman explained.

"Oh... Oh yeah."

"Now hurry up. Recess is almost over."

When Kenny saw Cartman and Butters enter the classroom after everybody else, he hit his fist on the desk. He had kept an eye out over the playground still in hopes of talking with Butters, but now he saw that the two had spent the entire time together and he just didn't like the idea. Let alone the reality.

That afternoon as Kenny walked home, he found himself kicking through the snow. It melted and soaked through his shoes and socks, but he kept kicking through the clinging cold. He had given Butters a good luck pat on the back before leaving school, but he couldn't shake the irritation of learning that Cartman had forced his way into the situation just like he did everything else.

Not in any mood to rush to the house, Kenny shuffled his way to Stark's Pond. He sat down on the bench and broke out his homework. Once he had finished a good amount (or at least all that he was up for at the moment) he tucked his books away in his backpack and stood up. Nearing the edge of the pond, he saw that the surface had frozen during the temperature dive of the past week. It was a thin layer of ice, and Kenny easily broke a piece with the tip of his shoe. He tapped his foot along the edge to crush the ice away, first into large floating sheets, then to much smaller pieces. Soon the edge turned to slush, so Kenny reached his leg out and smashed his foot on the ice a bit further out. He sped up and kicked harder and harder. His shoe and foot were soaked, but he liked it. The stinging on his skin made the breaking feel all the more powerful, though it really took very little effort. Of course, one kick led to another, and even Kenny saw it coming but couldn't stop himself when he suddenly stretched just too far and stumbled forward, falling to his knees in the pond.

He felt rather stupid.

Neither of Kenny's parents were home when he walked in, but Kevin was lying in the living room floor staring vacantly at the ceiling in an obviously stoned fashion. The musky waste smell of the house was covered by the sweet stench of pot. Kenny opened his door to allow the smell to enter while the house was quiet, then stripped down to his underwear and laid his soaked pants and damp coat open on his bed to dry. Needing to use the toilet, he walked down the hallway and stopped at the far wall. To the left was the bathroom, and to the right was another door that, leading to a room that had only been added two years ago, didn't quite match the rest of the house.

After finishing his business, Kenny stared at the other door. He contemplated knocking, but couldn't quite bring himself to it. It had been a while since the days before his little sister had her own bedroom. It had been a while since Karen would sneak to sleep in his bed because she was scared or cold or lonely. It had been a while since she needed an angel.

Kenny was still standing in a daze between the doors when he heard that little, surly voice say, "Excuse me." He jumped and turned to Karen. She continued, "I need in my room."

"Oh, I was just going to the bathroom," he said dumbly, stepping back into it. Karen stared for a moment before turning to her door.

"Put some clothes on, Kenny. God damn," she called back, but before she could open the door, Kenny stepped forward and leaned against the bathroom door frame, arm above his head with fingers combing his hair, the other hand resting on his hip. His best model pose.

"I'm sorry, am I bothering you?" He asked, putting on a breathy voice.

Karen stared at him curiously for a second. "Yes," she said.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be a bother," Kenny teased, turning around and backing up to Karen with his butt jutting toward her.

"Ack," Karen spat, pressing herself against her door and holding her hands up in defense. When Kenny got too close, she lifted her leg up and put the bottom of her shoe on his butt. "Yeah, a real pain in the ass," she giggled, pushing her brother into the bathroom with her foot. Kenny stumbled forward, and Karen slipped into her bedroom.

Karen had picked up cursing when she entered the third grade, and even though Kenny had been cursing since pre-school, and it was a miracle that she had lasted so long in this household anyhow, Kenny could hardly believe it when obscenities left her eight year old mouth.

Kenny stood awkwardly in the bathroom. He looked at himself in the dirty, round mirror. His boney body looked small and malnourished. He had contemplated switching his old, beat up parka for some nicer, more fitting clothes, but when he saw himself without it, he couldn't help but feel weak and exposed. Karen was now too tough to need an angel, and Kenny was too weak to be one for her or Butters. At least, he thought, he was still able to make Karen laugh at times, but he still didn't know how to keep anyone safe.

Butters, as usual, went straight home once school let out. Nobody was home when he arrived. His parents were at work, and his aunt and uncle were out. Sitting by his bed, he inspected the camera and tapes that Cartman had stuck him with. The camera had a slot for the tapes, and removing the tight lens cap, Butters wondered if it had ever been used to record or if it only ever worked as a receiver for the other security cameras. He sat the camera on the box of tapes and slid them under his bed before setting to work on his chores. As terrified as Cartman's schemes made him, he found himself feeling less worried about his uncle. Sure, he was very nervous standing in that dark office, but his adrenaline was pumping. It was thrilling and he felt excited. To a degree, Butters thought hesitantly, it was therapeutic. Putting these thoughts aside, he finished his chores and sat down to watch some cartoons while the TV was free. By the time Nellie and Bud returned, Butters was sitting on the couch finishing up his homework. He put his books to the side as they entered the living room. "Welcome home," he said.

"Lookie what we found crammed under some books, Butters," Nellie said, eagerly holding up a Monopoly box. Monopoly was Butters' most favorite board game, so he was excited at the presentation.

"Oh boy!" he said, jumping to his feet. "It's Monopoly. I love Monopoly. Can we play it?"

"It's got almost all the pieces," Bud said, setting the board on the table, "so it should be playable. Wanna give it a try?"

"You bet I do!" Butters replied.

"Oh goodie. I'll make you boys some hot cocoa and we can get started," Nellie said, heading for the kitchen. "I just can't get over how cold it is up here."

Bud and Butters shuffled the cards. Butters peeked up at his uncle. He thought of going ahead and telling Bud that he wanted to talk. He knew they didn't have the time or the appropriate setting for the full conversation at the moment, but he could at least give the heads up so the opportunity wouldn't pass them by later. Not only that, but Butters feared that if he put it off, he'd find himself backing out. But despite the high spirits and determination he had put on for Kenny throughout the day, he now found himself closing up, his throat drying and hands locked. His heart beat faster already. Butters jumped with a start when Nellie sat a mug in front of him.

"O-oh, thanks Aunt Nellie."

Nellie sat on the couch behind Butters and patted his hair. "Boy, am I lucky or what? I get to spend my night with my two favorite men." Butters smiled up at her warmly.

"What piece do you want, Butters?" Bud asked.

"Can I be the cannon?"

"Sure ya can, Captain," he said, passing the game piece to Butters. "Prepare for battle! You can't win against my ship. What do you want, Nellie?"

Nellie clapped her hands and said, "Oh, I wanna be the cute lil puppy dog."

With that, the game began. They joked and laughed, and they were each quite competitive. Butters wasn't going to lose at his most favorite board game, but Nellie and Bud weren't backing down either. When Butters would roll a good number, Bud would swear the piece moved in the opposite direction, and each time Butters would laugh and tell him to stop being silly and trying to trick him.

"No, Uncle Bud," he laughed when Bud held out his hand after landing on Tennessee Avenue. "That's my land. You have to pay me."

"You have to be careful around this man," Nellie warned. "That's how he does all his business. I learned the hard way not to let him be banker."

Butters only had fun like this with his aunt and uncle. Even Bud seemed more joyful now that the stress of the move was cooling down. Little by little, Butters regained his courage. Uncle Bud was a fun, nice man. Butters just had to explain that the touching made him feel bad. Then he could still have his Uncle Bud. Preoccupied with thought, Butters reached for the dice when Bud suddenly grabbed his hand. Butters gasped loudly, eyes going wide and not knowing what was going on.

"What happened to your fingers?" Bud asked.

Butters sighed. He had slipped up and reached with his right hand. He felt silly for letting his heart pound so much. "Oh... Oh that. That was... I hurt it on the playground."

Nellie gasped and took his hand in hers. "Oh my poor Butters. Your poor hand," she cooed, kissing each finger. "Please be careful, sweetie."

"I will, Aunt Nellie."

That night, after his parents got home and they all ate supper and talked for a while, Linda reminded Butters that it was getting late, so he went ahead upstairs to brush his teeth and change for bed. Butters sat in his room until his aunt and uncle came up the stairs.

"Alright Butters," he said to himself, clenching his fists. It was time to push himself and say what he needed to say. He hopped off his bed, walked to the doorway, and said sheepishly, "H-hey Uncle Bud?"

Bud turned to Butters, standing in the doorway to the guest room. Nellie poked her head out as well. "Butters," she said, "what are you still doing up? You're gonna be exhausted in the morning."

"I'm sorry. Could... Could I talk to Uncle Bud real quick though?"

Bud placed his hand on Nellie's back. "I'll just be a minute."

Bud stood by Butters' bed as he closed the door. "Could we maybe sit down?" Butters asked. He always heard people tell others to sit down before discussing something serious, and he figured their talk was pretty serious, too.

"Not a problem," Bud said, lowering himself on the bed. "What's this all about Butters?" he asked.

Butters sat beside him and knocked his fists together. He couldn't tell if Bud really didn't suspect what it was that he wanted to discuss or if he was only playing innocent. For a second, Butters wondered if his uncle might have put that lustful part of himself behind him, and bringing up the subject might only reignite the flame. After all, they had had so much fun together that afternoon. Perfectly innocent fun that Butters hoped to have again and again. And when Bud noticed his injured fingers, he showed genuine concern. But he remembered that this was not the first time that he had made himself believe in change. In the end, he knew that Kenny and Cartman were right. He had to face his problem head on. Uncle Bud was not some old person who would be dying soon anyhow. He had years to cling to Butters, more now than ever. Butters knew that he needed to put an end to this. And at least Bud was in a good mood tonight. It was the perfect chance.

"Well actually, I was hopin' maybe to talk about...," Butters struggled to speak. Each word felt as heavy as his heart, struggling to come up from his hollow gut. He took a breath and continued with, "maybe not doin' those things that, y'know, that we do at night anymore." He stared at the floor. He was frightened, but at least the words were out.

"Is that a threat?" Bud sharply accused.

Butters' eyes snapped to his uncle, wide and terrified. "No!" he exclaimed.

"Then what is it?"

Butters didn't know how to respond. "I'm just askin'," he said softly.

"Did you tell somebody? Was it that fat kid you snuck out with last night?"

"No! Uncle Bud, I swear I didn't say anything to him!"

"Or was it that dirty poor kid with the orange coat who snuck in here while you were grounded?"

Butters stared at his uncle with an expression of guilty fear. He had no idea that anybody knew about Kenny climbing in through the window that day. He painfully hoped that his uncle hadn't heard their conversation. The one where Butters confided in Kenny, telling him of Uncle Bud's other nature and wanting to tell him more.

"You can't be going around talking to people about us, Butters," Bud stated firmly. "I can go to _jail_."

Guilt flooded Butters' heart. "I don't want you to go to jail," he said, feeling conflicted.

"You know I'm only expressing my love for you. It makes us both feel good."

"But Uncle Bud... It..." Butters swallowed hard, trying to maintain eye contact as he said, "It doesn't feel good for me." His voice grew small, and his gaze gave out.

"I don't want you saying another word to anyone about this, alright. I thought I made that clear this morning." Bud grabbed Butters' arm the same way that he did when he dropped him off at school that morning. "Don't talk about it. Do I make myself clear?" he asked, tightening his grip until Butters' face contorted from pain and his eyes shut. "Well?"

"Yes," Butters choked, "Yes, sir."

Bud released his nephew's arm and smiled lightly. "Glad to hear it." He stood and walked to the door. "Now you better get some sleep. I can't be to blame for keeping you up every night," he said with a chuckle that was much more appropriate for a kind-hearted joke. He closed the door, leaving Butters rubbing his arm on his bed.

He pulled his sleeve up, but there were no noticeable marks. He buried his face in his pillow, then sat up and punched it. He lifted his pillow over his head and threw it at the floor before beating his fists into his mattress again and again. Bud had never been so violent with Butters before, and Butters felt small and afraid. He had been so determined to have this little talk and set everything right, but now he just wanted to hide away where nobody could bother him again. Nobody could touch him, and nobody could yell at him to stick up for himself as if he hadn't been trying. That night, he fell asleep curled up at the foot of his bed with a scowl on his face.

Kenny saw Butters standing by his locker. He had been wondering how the previous night had gone. He thought that when he saw Butters next, he'd be able to tell right away how he was. He'd either look exhausted and depressed to indicate that something bad had happened: either he hadn't gotten the chance to speak to Bud or Bud fought back somehow, meaning Kenny would build an immense rage and ideally kick Bud's ass himself; or he would look ecstatic and hop up and down at the chance to tell Kenny that everything was a-okay because Bud was already in jail or bleeding out in a ditch, meaning Kenny would share in his joviality and rejoice with him, except that it was ultimately Cartman who was the bigger help, which still pissed Kenny off immensely. Instead however, Butters turned his head to Kenny and gave him the most ambiguous smile and nod that he had ever seen.

"I just thought you ought to know," Butters said once Kenny reached him, "everything's going to be okay from now on."

"(Really? Sweet,)" Kenny said cautiously. He couldn't tell how he should respond. He thought such words should come with celebration. "(So are you alright?)"

"Yeah. You don't have to worry anymore. I'll see ya, Kenny."

With that, Butters headed for class, leaving Kenny standing alone in the hall. He didn't know what to think. It almost felt as though Butters didn't need him at all. If he didn't feel dumped before, he definitely did now. So useless, he thought to himself. So fucking useless.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Hello everybody! So, that South Park Blackout this past Wednesday was pretty crazy. I hope that everyone at South Park Studios didn't get too stressed out. So one thing that I wanted to mention (just to brag on myself I guess) is that when I started this story, the uncle seen in AWESOM-O wasn't officially Uncle Bud. At the time, that was my creative license. Then Mr. FAQ said that they were indeed the same character. So that's pretty cool. Anyhow, I think the next chapter should be the end. Enjoy!

**It Wasn't Just Once**

**Ch 8**

The melting snow twinkled in the morning sun. The squeaks and squelches of the students' shoes reverberated in the hallways of South Park Elementary as they left the entry mats soggy and the floors dotted with watery footprints. Mr. Venezuela, the school janitor, busily placed caution signs by the slippery entryways as more and more students slumped their way inside. Kenny remained at his locker, ruminating on the words that Butters had left him with. He scratched his head and threw open his locker, leaning against it and staring blankly inside as his mind fogged with melancholy. "(Butters,)" he sighed, hanging his head.

"Stan," Stan corrected, opening his own locker above Kenny's. "I think Butters already went to class."

"(Oh,)" Kenny replied.

"Hey, did you see the link I e-mailed you? To that picture of those French twins?"

"(French twins?)" Kenny repeated, perking up. "(No, I don't have Internet right now, remember?)"

"Oh yeah. Dude that sucks. You woulda liked it." The two grabbed their books and headed for the classroom, and Stan went on, saying, "Try to get on a computer when no one's around. These girls have huge tits, and they're legit."

"(Woo-hoo,)" Kenny cheered. "(Fuckin' sweet, dude. But you're more of an ass-man, aren't you?)"

"Hey, the ass has more class," Stan countered, and the two entered the classroom laughing. Kenny's eyes instantly fell on Butters, who was turned to Cartman and talking with him. His eyes slid to Kenny for half a second before returning quickly to Cartman.

Kenny's laughter faded, and he rubbed his arm awkwardly. He felt guilty for laughing in front of Butters as if he hadn't just been worrying about him, especially when Cartman was sporting such a serious expression. Although some of that emotion was jealousy. Sitting in class, Kenny watched Butters jot notes in his workbook as Mr. Garrison wrote key words on the board. He looked attentive, and resting his cheek on his fist, Kenny pondered on what might be going through Butters' mind at that moment. He was absorbing himself in his notes in the same fashion as he had done when his aunt and uncle first arrived. It was this behavior that had first made Kenny take notice. This time however, Kenny wasn't sure if he was simply seeing what he expected or not.

His eyes trailed to Butters' busy pencil, but soon his attention was drawn to the bandages on his fingers. Blue skin showed on either side of the bandages. Kenny's brow rose at the sight. After a while, Mr. Garrison set the class to work on filling out worksheets. He sat at his desk for about ten minutes as the fifth graders worked away before standing and going for the door.

"Alright, you all keep at it," he said as he left the room. There was a short pause as he walked away, followed by a nearly complete dismissal of the assignment. The class erupted with conversations. Stan pestered Kyle to put his pencil down and talk to him. Cartman was mocking Token for something or other. Even Butters sat his pencil down and stretched his fingers. Kenny leaned over and tapped Butters on the shoulder.

Butters turned, began to turn away, then realized that they had already made eye contact and turned back to Kenny. "Oh hey Kenny," he said in a way that didn't fit the setting, still with that ambiguous smile. Kenny felt annoyed by the fact that he had tried to ignore him. He was done pussy-footing around. He figured his best bet was to start being direct with Butters.

He leaned closer and said, "(What happened last night, Butters? What happened with your uncle?)"

The smile fell from Butters' face. "Oh. Well. It's like I said."

"(So you told on him,)" said Kenny hopefully.

"I-it's okay now." Butters gave a shallow chuckle. "Geez Kenny. You worry-wart." He picked up his pencil and returned to his worksheet.

"(What happened to your hand?)"

Without looking away from his work, he replied, "That was... Something else. Don't worry about it."

"(Will you tell me later where your uncle is?)"

"I already said," he explained with his faux contentedness, "it's okay."

"(Bullshit.)"

"Nuh-uh."

"(Tell me what happened, Butters.)"

Finally, Butters dropped his pencil, turned around in his chair, and snapped, "Just leave me alone already!"

It was not a booming exclamation, but it was still enough to make the class fall silent as they stared in question at their usually pleasant classmate.

"Woah-ho!" shouted Cartman. "Damn Butters. Kenny stick his dick up your ass or something?"

The class snickered as Butters slouched in his chair. Kenny's face heated in anger that Cartman would make such a disgusting joke. "(Do I look like a fucking pervert to you?)" Kenny spat back. Unfortunately, he got his answer in the form of laughter from the rest of the class.

"You are a pervert, Kenny," Cartman said.

Kyle laughed as well and said, "Yeah." He wouldn't stop working to talk to his best friend, but he'd stop to agree with his worst enemy.

Kenny rolled his eyes and picked up his pencil as if to continue his work. "(Go fucking figure,)" he grumbled to himself. Once again, the other children could only assume that he was joking. Like he had set up the conversation to be turned on himself. After being ignored by Butters and having his class undesirably laughing with him, Kenny spent the rest of the day in a foul mood. He payed no attention to the lessons, and when his friends talked, he simply sat passively by. His mind set was that Butters did not want his help, he could not force him to accept his help, and he probably did not have the ability to help anyhow. After all, he was just that poor kid who made perverted jokes all the time.

Kenny's frustration did not go entirely unnoticed, however. Butters felt guilty about leaving Kenny in the dark. He did not want to keep secrets from Kenny, especially when he so unnecessarily wanted to help. In fact, he really loved the way it felt to open up to him. Kenny was caring and didn't spread his secret. He simply expected too much of Butters, or so Butters felt.

When Butters arrived home that afternoon, Bud and Nellie were going between their car and the house to bring in groceries. "Need any help?" Butters asked, taking a jug of milk and orange juice from the trunk.

"Oh thanks, Butters. I was dreading carrying those in the cold," she said.

"That's no problem," Butters said, kicking snow off his boots as he entered the house. "Boy, you sure got a lot of stuff."

"I just felt a bit guilty for all your parents' hospitality, so me and Bud figured we'd pick up some things," Nellie explained as she and Butters finished putting things away, all in the proper alphabetical place. Butters made especially sure.

"That's it, I think," Bud said, closing the refrigerator and shoving the plastic bags under the sink. "Thanks for the help, Butters."

"Yes, thank you for being the best helper in the world," Nellie said as she wrapped her arms around Butters, lifting him off of his feet as she squeezed him lovingly. His arms were pinned under hers, so he automatically yelped at the pressure. Nellie sat him down quickly. "What's wrong?"

Butters glanced at Bud, terrified to see his stone cold face. "N-nothing," he replied, turning his arm away from her.

Not one to let her nephew hide things from her, Nellie grabbed his wrist and slid his sleeve up to his shoulder. "I don't see anything. Where does it hurt?"

"I-i-it's nothing, Aunt Nellie. Really-ow." Nellie pushed her finger down onto the damaged spot.

She gasped. "Someone did this to you, didn't they?"

"No. Nobody did anything to me," he replied, making sure to keep his eyes off of Bud.

"It was the same person who smashed your fingers, right? Don't lie to me. I wanna know if someone is bullying you."

"I-it wasn't...," Butters started, but when his aunt grabbed his hands so eagerly, with the same intensity as Kenny, he couldn't stand the pressure anymore. "Yeah... Yeah it was a bully."

Nellie embraced Butters, holding him tight against her chest. "Some people are just horrible," she said. "Horrible. But you're better than them." She pulled away and put on a smile. "Hey, how do you feel about going to the mall for a bit? I'll buy you an orange smoothie. Whadya say, Bud? You wanna come with me and Butters to get some orange smoothies?"

"Sure. Sounds like a great idea," Bud replied with a broad smile that Butters didn't know how to look at. As they headed for the car, Bud said, "Not only does Butters deserve some sort of treat, I think he deserves some recognition for being brave and not trying to get his family involved in his problems. That was very considerate, like a real man."

"Well," Nellie said, "I think it was sweet of you to try to deal with it on your own, but you should know I always want you to tell me when something is wrong. Especially if somebody is hurting you." She growled and said, "What kinda jerk..."

With nothing better to do, Kenny decided to take a nap shortly after arriving home. He tossed his backpack against the door as if to barricade it and didn't even bother to kick off his shoes when he flopped onto his back on his bed. He clapped his hands twice, but his clapper light didn't respond. He sat up and clapped more distinctly, but the lights still refused to obey. After another failed attempt, he grunted and stood to flip the switch manually. On his bed again, he watched the dust dance in the light that leaked through his busted blinds at the foot of the bed, and even though he realized that the sight revealed how neglected his room was, he still thought it was soothing. Like looking at a snow globe except without the annoyance of having to shake it. It didn't mean anything. It didn't change anything. But watching those countless white dots shiver and swirl was engaging and temporarily purging.

Even though Kenny was nowhere near the point of drifting off, he still felt all the frustration of a rude awakening when his parents' sudden screaming blared through the house. Like so many of their arguments, it sounded like the middle of a long debate despite only just starting. Surely it started off quiet, but there was no rise in volume, no warning, before it exploded. One of the few aspects of Kenny's character that he could still feel proud of himself for was how well he managed to ignore, or at least put on an air of apathy toward, his family issues. But this time, try as he might to block out the sound or remind himself that it had nothing to do with him, Kenny quickly became sick.

"Fine! I'll just live in the streets!" Carol screamed from the living room. "Then maybe I'll die and you'll be happy!"

"I never said a damn thing," Stuart retorted. "If you wanna die so badly, that's your own Goddamn business."

Although his mom's screams were harsher to the ears, his dad's were just as unnerving. The worst contributor came next.

"Why don't you both go die?" Kevin yelled in his slurred manner. "How the fuck do you expect me to get an education with all this yelling?"

With another grunt, Kenny rolled toward the wall. He shut his eyes tight and imagined that he was asleep, telling himself again and again that it had nothing to do with him. No reason to be bothered by it. They may be in the same house, but he had no part in this bullshit.

"Watch your Goddamn mouth!" Carol yelled. "Oh what? Are you gonna hit me? Like a fuckin' man! Go ahead. Kill me!"

"Back up!" Stuart demanded.

"Kill me!"

"Back up!"

Suddenly something shattered, making Kenny jump and yank his drawstrings tight. Another shatter followed, registering in Kenny's clapper and turning the lights back on. Looking at his illuminated room made Kenny even more disgusted. His closet was a mess despite his sparse wardrobe, paint peeled off parts of the walls, there were crayon markings on them from when he was younger that he could never remove, the carpet was littered because they had no vacuum, and even his beautiful pinup girls were faded and yellowed from age. One of his larger ones had been strategically placed to hide a moldy spot that was now so large that it peeked out from one side.

The fight continued in the living room, but Kenny was through with listening. As dumb as he thought it was, it was getting to him. Even though he played the idea on repeat in his head that it had nothing to do with him. They were only in the same house, but he was not a part of the conflict. Still somehow it was getting to him. It was making him sad. And whenever he allowed himself to become sad, he also became frustrated with himself. He got to the foot of his bed, propped his window open with the broom handle, and hopped out. He rounded the side of the house and entered the garage, slamming the loose shutter behind him. It smelled and felt cold and musty, and light poured through the cracks and holes in the walls and shutter. Searching frantically through the shelves, Kenny swatted at cobwebs that wrapped around his gloves and arms. He paid no mind to the dirt and dust that clung to him as he dug around. Finally, he grabbed a can of spray paint and a rag, and after shaking the can, he tried to spray it onto the rag. The can gave a pathetic sputter, but nothing landed on the rag. Kenny held the rag to his face, but it only smelled of whatever fungus had been growing on it. He shook the can and tried to spray again, but when nothing came of it he threw it to the ground with all his might, cursing at it helplessly.

Tossing the rag to the side, Kenny dropped to his knees to grab a bucket of green paint. He pulled it to himself and held it snug between his legs. The lid had stuck to the crusty top, and dried paint and rust flaked onto Kenny's torso and arms as he pried it off with much force. When the lid finally popped off, it fell onto Kenny's leg and left a crescent paint splotch once he kicked it off. The garage was rundown enough that the holes kept it ventilated, so it took several furious inhales before Kenny was able to calm down and really focus on drawing in the scent and fumes of the paint. If he truly thought he might die for good, he might have been more careful. Right now though, he just wanted to become apathetic, and whether that meant getting high or suffocating to death did not matter. So he brought his face nearer to the paint and breathed it in with long draws.

He wanted to become numb. Numb to his parents' and brother's stupidity. Numb to Butters' pain and rejection. Numb to every emotion in existence aside from apathy or contentedness, whatever the difference was. And so what if Butters would rather rely on Cartman? Kenny already had to deal with enough dysfunction. He didn't need to add more. If Butters didn't want his help, then fine. Butters obviously did not remember just who it was he had been ignoring. Fucking Mysterion. Sure, he hadn't been active in a while, but so what? He was still a fucking eldergod or some shit. Whatever. Fuck you.

These thoughts were the same ones that had been eating away at his spirit, and yet now he preferred to have his spirit eaten right out. What he considered dilemmas were turning into facts, and Kenny was perfectly fine with that. At that moment, Kenny felt that he could live forever or die and never come back and it would all be just alright by him, because nobody ever needed anybody.

Suddenly, the garage door opened loudly, and Kenny shielded his eyes from the harsh sunlight.

"There you are, Kenny. Do you wanna go somewhere with..." It took Kenny a moment to realize that it was Karen's silhouette that was talking to him. She spoke with casual words, but her uneven tone belied them. "Kenny?" she squeaked. "Were you..." She backed away and covered her mouth with both hands.

"(Shit. Karen,)" Kenny cursed. "(Don't worry. I didn't.)" Karen merely shook her head. Even Kenny was surprised by how wobbly his words were. Karen turned and ran off. Kenny shoved the paint away and stood, realizing as he rose that he was very unsteady. He stumbled sideways and felt nauseated. Shaking his head slowly, Kenny stumbled his way out of the garage. "(Karen!)" he called. But she had already run off. "(Karen. Fuck!)"

With full intentions of catching up to his sister, Kenny began to run. However, it only took three steps for his head to start spinning, and he fell to his knees. He rose again and walked as best he could in the direction he thought she went. All the while, he yelled at himself. He had seriously screwed up. He had assumed that Karen wasn't at home. Used to, she would give herself away by squalling at the first instance of a fight. Now, she had learned to endure. It took a lot to make her show tears nowadays, but seeing the one family member she thought was above such debasing behavior locked away in the garage huffing paint fumes was like betrayal.

As he marched on, staggering with every few steps, he tried to think of where Karen might have run to. He had to find her and somehow prove to her that he was okay (although he very clearly was not). He had to ask her to forgive him. Despite what he had thought in the high of the moment, he was returning to his former opinions. It didn't matter if he was immortal, or if he had once been a protector to his little sister or anyone else in the past. That didn't mean he was doing any good now.

After racking his brain for a bit, Kenny remembered that last year, Karen had asked him to take her to the mall a few times when their parents were fighting. They could never buy anything, but she always seemed to have fun there. The last time they went, she had asked, "Can we go somewhere?" and she denied every one of Kenny's suggestions until he mentioned the mall. So Kenny marched on in that direction. If he were less preoccupied, he might have noticed the concerned looks of the townspeople he passed.

The South Park mall was a small building on top of a hill. By the time Kenny reached the parking lot, he had regained most of his posture even though he was sweating and tired. If Karen had come here, she must have run the whole way for Kenny not to have caught up with her. In reality, Kenny was moving much slower than he imagined himself to be, but he grumbled at the thought that she must have gone elsewhere.

Kenny slumped against the building, sliding halfway down before freezing in place as he watched an adjacent side exit open about twenty feet away where of all people Butters exited the mall. Then came Nellie. But the door did not close yet, and Kenny straightened his legs and shook his head in disbelief as Bud followed behind them. They were all smiling and bubbly. If anyone else saw them, they'd believe that they were a perfect little family. Kenny's fists shook at his sides, and he called out, "(Butters!)"

Butters turned around, his eyes widening. "Kenny?" he said, looking hesitantly to his aunt and uncle before jogging over to him. "What happened?" he asked, looking Kenny over.

"(What the fuck is that ass-hole doing still walking around?)" Kenny asked in a way that demanded an answer.

"Kenny... Are you okay?" Butters asked with pity.

"(What?)" Kenny looked down at himself and saw just how dirty he was. His hands and arms were covered in dirt and cobwebs, the front of his jacket was streaked in green paint, and his leg had been splattered by the paint lid. He scratched his nose and felt the dried paint on the tip of it. The fumes from his clothes were still affecting him, he realized, because even looking down at himself made him dizzy again. He glared at Butters with all the fire he had and shouted, "(We're talking about you!)"

"I think you should go home and get some sleep."

"(Don't fucking talk to me like that. You're the one with the problem. I thought he was gone!)"

Butters lowered his voice and said, "I talked to him. He's... He's not gonna do it anymore so..."

"(Not good enough! Get rid of him!)" Kenny exclaimed, waving his arm and stumbling closer to Butters, who watched him nervously. "(Oh, if Cartman told you to, you would. Right?)" Kenny grabbed Butters by his arms and shook him. "(Then you would! Right?)"

"Ow," Butters winced. Hearing the fear in Butters' voice, Kenny quickly released his grip. Butters turned his head to the ground and rubbed his arm, sliding his sleeve up to reveal a new bruise where Kenny had squeezed the already sore area. "I never wanted to be selfish."

"(Fuck... Butters,)" Kenny mumbled guiltily.

Having seen Kenny grab Butters, Nellie ran to the two boys, snapping furiously at Kenny. "I can't believe it! It was you, wasn't it?"

Looking up made Kenny dizzy again. "(Was what me?)" he asked, a little more hateful than he intended as he glared against the sunlight.

"You're the brat who's been bullying Butters," Nellie accused.

"(Me?)" Kenny grunted in disbelief as Bud made his way over.

"I think it's best we get going," Bud said, placing his hand on Nellie's shoulder. "Butters doesn't want us to meddle in his social life."

"(Him!)" Kenny exclaimed. "(That's the fucker bul...)" A Pocket of air formed rapidly under Kenny's tongue, cutting him off, and without another word, he vomited violently on the ground before falling to his knees.

Nellie pulled Butters back and glared at Kenny with disgust. "I don't care what you do on your own time," she said, "but you stay away from Butters."

With that, Nellie turned away and walked off, and before Butters turned to follow, he looked down at Kenny and said, "Go home, Kenny."

Kenny's head dropped as Butters walked away. He stared at his pile of vomit, ready to concede to uselessness. This was it, he thought. Butters didn't want him. Karen couldn't rely on him either. He was no different than Kevin or his father. He was trash.

"Hey kid."

Kenny looked up to see Bud looming over him. All this time, Kenny had seen Bud as some fruity man-child like so many others who would blow their brains out at the first sight of Chris Hansen. But now he stood tall with his grave expression and loathing voice, and Kenny once again drew his hood tight. Bud continued.

"Stay away if you don't wanna get hurt," he warned, kicking dust at Kenny before following after the other two. Butters started to turn around, but Bud petted his head and turned his attention forward as they reached their car.

Seeing Bud touch Butters so freely made Kenny drop his drawstrings. However intimidating Bud seemed in that instant must have been exponentially worse for Butters. Kenny tried to stand, but still finding himself woozy from the fumes, he tore his hood off and breathed in the fresh air. He gripped his knee and pushed himself up. As he stood, he felt the cold wind blow through his messy hair. He looked like trash. He may even have been trash. But Kenny didn't care anymore. Bud had been clever with his words. He had admitted nothing for Kenny to report. But Bud didn't realize that he was dealing with more than just some kid.

"You asked for it, ass-hole."

That night, Nellie took the initiative to tuck Butters in. She had been very clingy to him that whole night, and truth be told, Butters really liked it.

"Have sweet dreams my little Butters," Nellie cooed. She giggled and added, "I can't believe you haven't asked me to stop talking to you like that yet."

"Ah I don't mind," Butters said, playing with his blanket. "I kinda like it."

Nellie stroked his hair. "Well one day, you'll be embarrassed by it." She sighed. "And I hope I didn't just make things worse talking to your bully. I'd hate it if he thought you needed your aunt to fight your battles. Ugh, I can't believe I defended him before!"

"Don't worry," Butters assured her. "Kenny may seem a lil... Mixed up. But he's not bad." He didn't like letting his aunt think that Kenny was a bully, but he didn't know what else to say. She obviously hated not knowing who was hurting him, and Butters was enough of a gossip himself to understand not liking being left in the dark.

"Well I can't imagine him to be any good to treat you so badly. I know you're not supposed to hate, but... Oh I can't help but hate anyone who'd hurt you, Butters." She clasped her hands together in her lap as a look of melancholy covered her. Butters sat up attentively as she spoke, "Just the thought of somebody hurting you upsets me so much. Even Linda... I shouldn't talk about your mom, and don't get me wrong, I love her to death. But she can be very unfair to you. I think it's important for you to know that."

Butters' heart swelled with his aunt's love. "Aw," he said, finding no adequate vocabulary to express his appreciation, "gee Aunt Nellie. I, uh... Wuh, I don't even know what to say."

Nellie grinned and said, "Just promise me you'll take care of yourself when I can't. And maybe let me pretend I'm helping you by letting me keep you at our house over the weekend sometimes. I think the feeling of being completely unable to help someone you care deeply about is one of the worst feelings you can have."

"Yeah," Butters replied contemplatively. "Alright then."

"It's a deal then," Nellie said. "If we could go tomorrow, I'd have you stay with us this weekend. But we're not going 'till Sunday. So maybe next weekend. Me and Bud will make it extra special." She kissed Butters on the forehead and stood, walking to the door. "Goodnight," she said as she left the room.

Butters lay in bed in silence. He thought about what his aunt had said about caring deeply about someone and wondered if Kenny cared deeply about him. It seemed weird that someone like Kenny would care deeply about someone like Butters, but perhaps that explained why he was so persistent with him. And if that was the case, then Butters worried that Kenny was hurting in the same way that Aunt Nellie was. Aunt Nellie and Kenny, Butters thought, were both hurting because they cared about him. And they both wanted Butters to be safe. He had thought that relieving Kenny of having to hear his problems was the polite thing to do, but now he realized that it was this denying of his advice that probably mixed him up so much.

Kenny, Butters thought. Even someone like Kenny cared that much about him.

Butters crawled out of bed, flipped on his light, and dropped to his knees by his bed. He pulled the camera out and ejected the tape. It was only half full. Butters knew that he wasn't a clever boy, but for the sake of those who really cared deeply about him, he had to try something. Closing the tape back in, Butters climbed onto his bed, set the camera on his window sill, plugged it in, and covered it with his curtain so that only the lens stuck out from underneath. He had a feeling that Bud would visit him that night. He seemed to do so every time he felt threatened so that he could put Butters in his place. Butters lay in bed with a pounding heart. For the first time, he wanted Bud to come in. He only had three nights to get something good if he didn't wanna wait for his aunt and uncle to already be comfortable in their Denver home. He didn't want to imagine how bad or often those nights would be if things went on.

Trying out different positions, Butters practiced sneakily reaching for the camera. He made sure that he could find the record button no matter the awkward angle. This training came in handier than he thought. Bud would have waited until late that night when Butters was already stricken with drowsiness had he not heard the sounds of his tossing and turning. When the knob of his bedroom door slowly turned, Butters flung himself under the covers. His limbs suddenly felt shaky and his chest felt tight as if he had stage fright. Bud had been quick enough to see his nephew dive for the sheets, and he grinned darkly as he closed and locked the door behind himself.

"It's not the weekend yet, lil buddy," Bud said as he came closer to the bed.

Butters poked his head out of the sheets. "Wuh, I know. I was just gettin' comfortable."

"With the lights on?" Bud smirked. "Well aren't you a big boy now?" He sat on the bed and placed a hand on Butters' knee. "But I guess you've known all about big boy things for a long time. Hey, maybe you can help me get comfortable for bed, too."

"H-how?" Butters asked, shivering as Bud rubbed his thigh.

"You had me and Nellie really worried today. I got this knot in my stomach I need relieved." Bud pulled his knees up and hovered over Butters before unbuttoning his pants. "Remember how to untie the knot? I'll be very disappointed if you don't."

Butters felt sick to his stomach. Of course he remembered the thing he had to do last Christmas. And even though at the time the thought of his family being disappointed in him (and all the punishment that would have surely gone with it) was enough to make him go along with it, this time he had other reasons, as disgusting as it made him feel.

Filled to the brim with anxiety, Butters sat up. He opened his mouth but quickly shut it again, feeling as though he might throw up. Suddenly, Bud grabbed the back of Butters' head, and Butters flinched each time he forcefully petted his hair down.

"Don't keep me waiting," he commanded.

Butters inched his head forward, peeking up at his uncle as he stretched his mouth open. While Bud's eyes were looking down at his, Butters crawled his fingers to the window, and holding a deep breath, he pressed the record button as Bud pushed his head forward. After what felt like an eternity of Butters struggling for air as his uncle forced his head against himself again and again, Butters tore his head away and out of Bud's grasp. With a face covered in sweat and tears and snot, Butters gasped and coughed until Bud grabbed him by the hair.

"We're gonna be here all night if you keep stopping," Bud whispered in frustration.

"Can't that be good enough?" Butters whimpered.

"Are you kidding? No, we gotta get you good at this if you ever wanna make anyone proud."

In the past, Butters would have believed Bud's words, but he knew better now than to think this had to do with making anyone proud. Making Bud frustrated was the real problem, because that would always lead to more trouble. Bud squeezed Butters' cheeks in his hand and pulled him in again. Butters didn't know how long it actually took before they were finished and Bud threw a dirty shirt at his face; but Butters was exhausted, and no matter how hard he rubbed the shirt on his face he still didn't feel any cleaner.

"I hope you know how upset it made Nellie to think you had a bully. You can imagine how devastated she'd be if you told her your secret."

"I know," Butters said, blowing his nose into the shirt. Bud snatched it out of his hands and went to the door.

"Now get some sleep before my knot ties again," he said, turning off the light and leaving Butters alone at long last.

After a moment, Butters grabbed the camera and showed his face to it before shutting it off and putting it back behind his curtain. His face felt crusty and his mouth felt dry, but he doubted if the camera could really pick any of that up. He swirled his tongue around his mouth and swallowed in an attempt to clear the bitter taste, but in the end he fell asleep still feeling very gross. Recording himself seemed dirty, but his plan required it.

Despite Kenny's moment of clarity and determination that evening, the moment that he set out on his quest to track down his sister, he had an unfortunate run-in with with a truck just outside the mall parking lot. He awoke to the sound of his alarm clock that next morning, and although he was frustrated at having lost a whole night, he was glad to see that he didn't lose any more. He felt and looked refreshed as though he had taken a long nap. Peeking into Karen's room, he saw that she was not there. Hoping that she merely left early, Kenny grabbed his backpack and rushed out to try and find her at her usual bus stop. Luckily, he found her coming toward him on the railroad tracks with her dingy overnight bag on her shoulder.

"(Karen!)" he exclaimed in relief, running to the tracks.

Karen stopped and smiled at him. "Hey Kenny. I was just about to drop my stuff off. I stayed at a friend's last night."

Kenny sat on the tracks and hung his head. "(I'm so sorry, Karen. I fucked up yesterday.)"

Karen dropped her bag and joined her brother, looking at him as she said, "I forgive you. Living in that house is hard on all of us. Heck, I bet even Kevin doesn't like the yelling. He just doesn't know how else to react. Though I wish he wouldn't try to fight them." Kenny turned to her, a bit bewildered. She chuckled awkwardly and asked, "What?"

"(How did you get to be so tough?)" he asked.

At first, Karen was taken aback by the question, but then she smiled and replied, "My angel taught me."

Kenny straightened his back. "(Uh. Oh. Really?)"

"Yeah. I realized that I was taking him for granted relying on him all the time. And he was always working so hard to take care of me even though I should have been learning to take care of myself. I realized," she looked dreamily to the sky, "maybe my angel needed an angel, too." She turned back to Kenny and asked, "Does that answer your question?"

Kenny could see now that this Karen was the same little sister he had always known, though much more mature. Too mature for her age, he thought. "(Yeah. Yeah it does.)"

"Well," Karen started as she rose to her feel and picked up her bag, "I gotta go if I don't wanna be late. See you at school."

"(Yeah okay.)"

When Kenny reached the bus stop, Kyle was in the middle of a rant. But Kenny didn't have the chance to hear what it was about because they all turned to him and stared in silence. Kenny looked down at himself, worried that he might still be dirty. But his clothes were as clean as rebirth. "(What's up?)" he asked.

"Nothing," Stan replied, and Kyle resumed his rant.

Really, even though none of them completely understood that anything was different, Kenny was exuding a new air of confidence that he hadn't had in a long time. His situation hadn't changed, but for the first time he really felt like it could. He was prepared for Butters to try to ignore him again, but he was ready to do whatever it took to save him.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: So this is not the last chapter. But the next one should be. It took me a while to finish this one because school got pretty hectic. Please enjoy. :)

**It Wasn't Just Once**

**ch 9**

It was Friday morning, and the boys had just gotten off of the school bus when Kenny pulled Cartman to the side. "(Cartman,)" he said hesitantly before they reached the door, "(can I talk to you?)"

"Ookay," Cartman replied, turning to Kenny as Stan and Kyle continued inside. "What's up?"

Kenny was unsure of where to start the conversation. He only knew that he wanted to know whatever Cartman knew about the whole Uncle Bud situation, and hopefully to find out how to approach Butters again after yesterday's confrontation. "(Have you heard from Butters?)" Kenny finally asked. "(I mean, since like last night?)"

"Heard what from him?" Cartman asked.

"(I know about what's going on,)" Kenny said.

Cartman stomped his foot and spat, "Dammit, Butters told you? That fucking ass-hole."

Kenny furrowed his brow. "(What's so fucking bad about me knowing?)"

"How many other people know?" Cartman continued, ignoring Kenny's response.

"(Well no one unless you told them,)" Kenny replied.

"Crap. If word gets out, I'll never get what I want."

"(Get what you want?)" Kenny grew worried. "(Just what the Hell do you plan on doing? This is a serious fucking issue!)"

"Yeah, and Butters is about to be in serious fucking trouble for telling you about it. I could be out of a lot of money. I gotta get that camera. Where is that butt-hole Butters?"

Cartman turned and walked through the doors before Kenny could say another word. After a second of being frozen in shock, Kenny raced in after him. Camera? Money? What did that have to do with Butters' situation? Was Cartman really plotting to do something as insanely horrible as it sounded like he was?

"(What are you doing, Cartman?)" Kenny called out, fuming as he chased him down the hall.

"None of your damn business."

"(If you're doing what it sounds like you're doing, then you really are the most evil piece of shit in the world. I won't let you do it. I'll... I'll fucking kill you before I let you do it.)"

Cartman stopped and turned to Kenny with a very confused look on his face. "It's not that evil, Kenny. Jesus Christ."

Even Cartman could usually tell when one of his schemes were generally considered unacceptable (that would not stop him, but he would still expect the disgust from others). Kenny was beginning to realize that there was definitely a misunderstanding here.

"I mean," Cartman continued, "I wish I could say it was that impressive, but I've done worse."

"(Wait. What do you think I was asking about?)"

Cartman crossed his arms and as though he were avoiding a confession, which he was, countered, "What _are_ you asking about?"

"(Nothing,)" Kenny said quickly. A little too quickly to be left alone.

"Oh ho," Cartman laughed, his curiosity piqued in a way that Kenny knew meant trouble. "Sounds like a serious secret. I'm sure Butters will tell me. I'll make sure he does."

"(Don't say anything to him, ass-hole,)" Kenny demanded.

"Why not? If Butters has a secret, he should be telling me first."

"(You don't know everything about Butters.)"

"I know he's a little faggot."

Kenny snapped. "(Fuck you, Cartman!)" he shouted, slamming his fist into Cartman's arm. "(You don't know anything about him, so fuck off!)"

"The fuck, Kenny?" Cartman shouted as he flinched at the attack. He shoved Kenny away and rubbed his arm, eyes wide with shock. "What's wrong with you? The Hell is going on?"

Butters stared at himself in the school bathroom mirror. Despite the activities of the previous night, Butters looked well rested and wide awake. He supposed it was because he had drawn his uncle in early by leaving the lights on, so he did not lose sleep like he had on other nights. Recently, his eyes would be bloodshot and half-lidded from exhaustion. But most of the time it was like this, with no signs from his uncle even for his family to see. Nobody would ever be able to tell that something was going on behind closed doors. But Kenny did.

Kenny. That was who Butters needed to talk to. If he was even at school. After seeing him yesterday, Butters needed to make sure that he was okay. He needed to apologize and tell him that he was ready now for real. Between that and his plan for tonight, everything felt so urgent. He left the bathroom, thinking he needed to track down Kenny. Surprisingly, he did not have to look far. When Cartman called out his name, he turned to see Kenny following close behind.

"Hey, fellas," Butters smiled, but that quickly fell when he saw their intense expressions.

"(Cartman don't,)" Kenny hissed. "(Please just let it go. Come on.)" The two stopped in front of Butters, and Kenny begged as sternly as he could, "(Please, Eric.)"

Butters was unsure of what to make of this scene. "What's goin' on, you guys?"

Without hesitation, Cartman ordered, "Butters, tell me your secret."

"What?" Butters asked, genuinely confused. "What secret?"

"The one Kenny knows," Cartman replied. "It's not a big deal. Kenny pretty much told me everything. He just said I should ask you about the rest."

"The one... Kenny knows?" He could only think of one secret that Kenny knew.

Kenny jumped beside the two. "(That isn't how it happened,)" he said.

"Uh-huh," Cartman whined. "It sounded like a serious secret. I had to make sure what I was hearing was right. You know, cause you can't always trust people's gossip. When I heard Kenny telling the others about it, I wanted to make sure he wasn't... exaggerating the details."

"(Shut the Hell up! You're full of shit. He's full of shit, Butters.)" Kenny turned his head to Butters, whose face was now tense somewhere between blank and sad, like that awkward state where the person might just crack at any second. And when Butters forcibly opened his mouth, Kenny feared he very well might crack. His voice started out like someone had slammed the breaks of a train.

"Are you mad at me?" Butters asked.

Kenny felt like his heart might break. "(No, I'm...)"

"I'm sorry, Kenny. I don't want..." Butters grabbed his stomach and looked to the floor. He was visibly shaking. "I didn't mean to be rude yesterday. I was just tryin' ta make it go away. Please make it go away. Why'd you tell?"

Cartman, in complete disregard for the atmosphere, snorted and said, "You guys aren't making any sense. What does this have to do with the secret?"

Kenny cursed and grabbed Butters by the hand, pulling him away and giving Cartman a threatening glare. Cartman let out a protesting, "Ey!" but otherwise did not follow. Mostly because he did not want Kenny attacking him again. Kenny pulled Butters around the corner, and Butters pressed his back against the wall and slid to the floor. Kenny could see his chest heaving. Hesitantly, he knelt to him.

"(Butters...)"

"Oh God," Butters whispered through his strained throat. His eyes were fixed on the floor, and he was sounding more panicked than sad now. "You told Eric."

"(I didn't tell him. He was lying,)" Kenny said, pleading for Butters to believe him. "(I really didn't tell him crap.)"

"He heard you! He heard you tell, and now everyone's gonna know. I didn't want anyone to know. I should have just kept my selfish mouth shut."

"(Butters, listen to me. I didn't tell anyone anything. Cartman is full of shit. He was lying to you to trick you.)"

Finally, Butters looked at Kenny. "But he knows about the secret."

Kenny turned his head down in shame. "(Yeah. I'm sorry. I fucked up. I thought he knew.)"

"Why would I tell him?!" Butters exclaimed. And Kenny had no idea how to respond. Thinking 'because you tell him everything else' sounded clearly like jealous drivel even in his head, and knowing that was his reasoning made him even more ashamed. He wanted Cartman to know that he had inside information, too. Butters continued. "I only told you. You were the only one who knew. You said to tell someone, and I did..."

Kenny recognized these words. He pulled his hood down, and gripping Butters' shoulder, he said, "You told me. I'm still the only one who knows. And I _will_ protect you. I swear it."

Butters stared. Kenny's words were sincere. He kept the secret. Even if he did almost tell Cartman, it was only because he still wanted to help. Butters had yet to even apologize for walking away from Kenny at the mall, and yet he was still beside him. Butters' face crumpled. "Thank you," he whispered, leaning forward and wrapping his arms around Kenny.

Even now that he was squeezing Butters against himself, Kenny could not remember when he had started caring. It did not seem to matter though. Now, all he wanted was to keep Butters safe. Forever if he could. And maybe this had all started because Kenny had a hero complex, but that seemed unimportant as long as Butters was okay.

When the two decided it was time to head to class, Butters said quietly as they reached the door, "I have a plan. And I already started."

"When?"

"Last night. I'll tell you about it later," Butters replied, giving Kenny an uplifting smile as he opened the door.

Mr. Garrison arrived right on time with the bell. "Okay class," he said, standing front and center. "I have an announcement from the office. Apparently an amount of security footage has been taken from the office, as well as the camera used to record them. If anybody knows who is responsible or wants to come clean, please visit Principal Victoria."

Butters was a bit surprised that they were only now asking about the tapes. Cartman gave him a wink, so it was clear that he did not plan on confessing. Butters wished that he could hand everything over, but he had already begun his plan using that camera. Besides, it was really difficult to defy Cartman's wishes.

"Does this mean there's nothing recording us anymore?" Stan asked.

"No, no," Mr. Garrison replied. "Be assured class, there has been a new security system installed now. It was in need of an update anyhow. We just need to know where the old footage is, is all."

Wendy scoffed. "This is ridiculous. It's obvious who took them. The same person who took the snacks from the cafeteria. If you want that footage, check Cartman's house."

"Wrong as usual, you dumb bitch," Cartman said.

"Unless you ate them," she quipped.

"Oh haha." Cartman sneered. "Maybe you took it to frame me. Isn't that how you get what you want? Setting people up?"

Wendy growled, but before she could respond, Mr. Garrison cut them off. "Calm down class. Now it's important that we don't point fingers in case we end up accusing the wrong person. Instead, let us all open our social studies books." Wendy glared at Cartman as the class followed orders. Cartman simply grinned smugly in response.

Mr. Garrison carried on with his lecture, and after a while, Cartman leaned over and whispered a raspy, "pssst," to Kenny. At first, Kenny ignored it, but when Cartman continued relentlessly and he finally could not take the sound anymore, he whispered back a rough, "What is it?"

"Tell me Butters' secret."

Kenny could see Butters stir at the request, though obviously pretending not to hear. "Screw off," Kenny replied.

"Don't be a bitch Kenny. You thought I knew anyhow. What difference will it make?"

"No."

Cartman whined a little too loud, making Mr. Garrison call him out. When he was unable to answer his question, Cartman crossed his arms and pouted in silence.

"I really wish you hadn't said anything," Butters said, washing his hands in the restroom as Kenny dropped his backpack to the floor.

"I thought he knew. You tell him everything else." So he ended up saying those words he had kept to himself anyhow. He rolled his eyes at himself for being so petty.

"Well I wasn't gonna tell him this!" Butters exclaimed, spinning around. "I wasn't gonna tell nobody. Until you kept botherin' me about it."

"I know," Kenny said, crouching to his backpack and feeling disgraceful. "I hope you don't regret that."

Butters put his hands behind his back and gave a small smile. One that surprised Kenny. "I don't. I'm glad that I told you. I'm glad you wanted me to. I never knew before that you..." Butters trailed off, shaking his head. "Thank you, Kenny."

Though touched, Kenny quickly rerouted the conversation before things got too sentimental. "So what is your plan?"

"Oh, well." Butters remembered the lewd things that he had done on camera and became too embarrassed to mention it. Even though he knew he needed to do it, he felt dirty. "I got somethin' to blackmail him with."

"Do you think that's best? I feel like it'd be a lot better to kick this dude's ass. Make him really hurt for the shit he put you through. Maybe castrate him." Kenny made sure that the amount of hate he had for Butters' uncle came through in his tone. Butters almost seemed upset by this. He leaned back on the sink and gripped it, sounding almost apologetic as he spoke.

"I still don't hate Uncle Bud. I love my family, and Aunt Nellie doesn't need any more stress right now. If I can just make sure he leaves me alone, we can all go on living happily."

Kenny frowned. Even if Butters did not hate Bud, he sure did. The way that Butters wanted so badly to protect his family felt so Butters-esque that Kenny felt like it would be wrong to try to convince him to think differently. He unzipped his backpack and dug inside. "Take this," he said, pulling out a knife in a tattered leather sheath and handing it to Butters. It was a decently sized knife, and Butters fumbled when he took it.

"Gee-wiz, Ken. What do you expect me to do with this?" he asked in surprise.

"It's a hunting knife," Kenny said as Butters pulled it halfway out of the sheath carefully as if it might attack him. The blade was serrated on the bottom half and curved to a sharp point. "I think. Keep it with you so whenever you do whatever your gonna do to blackmail him, if he still tries anything, jam it right into his neck."

With wide eyes at the idea, Butters shut the knife back into the sheath. "You're not supposed to bring knives and things to school."

"I bring lots of things you're not supposed to," Kenny scoffed, zipping his backpack back up and slinging it over his shoulder. He stepped closer to Butters and pushed the knife to his hip. "Keep it hidden at your side, and keep your shirt over it when you get home."

"I'm not gonna wait for him this time," Butters said. "I'm gonna confront him tonight. That way it'll be done before they leave on Sunday."

"That's really smart, Butters. Then I want you to call me before it happens."

"What about your minutes?"

Kenny shook his head. "Don't worry about my minutes. Just promise me you'll call before and after. I want to know that you're okay. Even if I can't do anything for you, just make me feel better, please."

"Kenny..." Butters clutched the knife to his heart, stepping closer to Kenny as if he were drawn in. "You don't even know how much you've done."

At that moment, Kenny wanted to hug Butters as tightly as possible. To tell Butters that it was he who was doing everything for both of them. It was Butters who gave Kenny his strength back. Who brought him out of his slump. He wanted to keep Butters safe in his grasp so that he would never have to deal with the pain others inflicted on him. Suddenly, the restroom door flew open, and Butters quickly shoved the knife in the back of his pants. Kenny pulled Butters' jacket over it as Cartman stomped up to them.

"A-ha! I knew you two would be in here. Conspiring against me," Cartman said. "Dammit you ass-holes. Tell me what's going on."

Kenny furrowed his brow. "No. Why do you care so much? It has nothing to do with you."

"I hate people keeping secrets from me," he said. Kenny was surprised at his honesty. "I deserve to know what everyone is doing all the time. Butters." He put his arm around Butters and turned both of their backs on Kenny. "You have to tell me. What's the big secret?"

"Uh, gee Eric," he stammered, holding his hands behind his back to make sure that the knife stayed in place. "I really can't tell you. Please understand."

Cartman dropped his arm and glared. Of all the people who could keep secrets from him, Butters was not one of them. "If you don't tell me, I'll tell everyone about the snacks you stole _and_ the security footage."

"Butters stole those things?" Kenny asked almost sarcastically, which is why he was thrown off guard when Butters jumped at the accusation.

"Eric made me!"

Kenny smacked his palm to his forehead, holding it for a few seconds before dropping his arm. "Cartman, nobody is gonna blame Butters for that. I won't let them. You bust him, we bust you. Got it?"

"You really like saying you won't let things happen, don't you?" Cartman said.

"It's still true. If Butters has backup, you've already got a bad record. You'll be the one getting in trouble."

Cartman started to protest, but thought better of it. If it were just Butters, he could still find a way to make him take all the blame. But with Kenny knowing, he could round up everyone to back him up. And with that, along with Wendy's previously established vendetta against him, Cartman recognized his defeat. He stuck his middle fingers in their faces and said, "Fine! Fuck you guys anyway! I don't wanna know your faggy secrets." He turned and stomped out of the restroom, slamming the door behind him.

Both boys gave a sigh of relief, and Kenny gave Butters a stern look. "After we deal with your uncle, we'll start on your thing with Cartman." At first, Butters returned the words with guilt, but then his face softened and he smiled. "What?" Kenny asked awkwardly.

"You're a good guy, Kenny."

Kenny threw his hood up and tightened it snugly to his face as he walked to the door.

After school, Kenny sat with the other three boys at Stan's house. They watched TV and talked about nothing in particular. It should have been one of those pleasant lazy Fridays, but Kenny could not remove the uneasiness in his gut. Again and again, he would glance at the clock, knowing that the more time passed the closer Butters was to confronting his uncle. Not knowing an exact time made Kenny anxious. The possibility that Butters might neglect to call him was frustrating, and he found himself getting preemptively and irrationally upset with and worried for Butters. By six o'clock, the sun had already gone down.

"Leaving already?" Kyle asked.

"(Yeah, I'm just not feeling well,)" Kenny said. He left Stan's house and entered the freezing night air. The lack of sunlight was causing paranoia, but Kenny knew that it was still early. Butters still had a few hours at least. Kenny knew that he would be unable to relax until he found out the plan's outcome, so instead of returning home, he wandered aimlessly about town. His only restriction was that he made sure to stay where he could get to Butters' house easily. At first, he checked his phone every fifteen minutes, but once nine o'clock rolled around his phone did not leave his hand. Then ten came, and Kenny debated calling Butters to see if everything was okay. He decided against it, reminding himself that it was now the weekend and it was very possible that it would still be a few more hours before Butters decided to act. Time ticked on, and Kenny kept telling himself, 'It's the weekend. He's gonna be okay. He's just not done it yet cause it's the weekend.'

By midnight, the wind made the outside nearly unbearable. Kenny hugged himself against it, finding himself power-walking for Butters' house. His worrying finally overpowered his justifications and filled him with the need to see the other boy. Thoughts of Butters being hurt by his uncle flooded Kenny's mind when he imagined that Butters might have attempted his plan already with bad consequences. Rationally, Kenny knew that this was unlikely, but he was having a hard time being rational right now.

When he reached the Stotch house, the lights were all off aside from a blue flicker in the living room. Nearing the house, Kenny realized that the whole family was watching a movie in the living room. Kenny sighed in relief and sat under the living room window, still hugging himself against the cold. He figured he would rather wait outside the house so that he could be ready for Butters when he called. Even if nothing bad happened (which was more probable and preferred) Kenny still wanted to be there to sneak in the window and be a support for Butters after what would surely be an emotional intervention.

The movie ended, and Stephen stood to stretch. "Get the lights, would you Butters?" he said as Linda flipped the TV off. Butters stood from his spot on the floor and flipped the switch on. With a yawn, he walked back to the couch. "You're not tired already, are ya? It's only 1:30," Stephen laughed.

"Yeah, I think I'm gonna go on to bed," Butters said. "Night mom. Night Aunt Nellie. Night Uncle Bud." With each name, he gave a hug. Then he gave Aunt Nellie an extra hug before turning and walking up stairs. He heard the rest of his family getting ready for bed as he changed into his pajamas. He sat the camera on the bed and settled Kenny's hunting knife in his waist band, but before he could go out the door his legs shook and grew weak and he sat down on the bed instead. He took some deep breaths and grabbed his phone. Kenny had wanted him to call, but now it was so late that Butters did not want to bother him. In fact, he would have rather not bother anybody and just go to sleep. In that moment, all the legitimate reasons for Butters to choose that night and not wait or neglect the opportunity seemed lost. He knew that he had good reason, but now he simply wanted to go back to savoring the calm of this particular moment. His eyes grew heavy, slowly closing as his body lulled to the side when his phone rang.

The ring was piercing in the quiet of his room, and Butters jumped and fumbled with his phone before silencing it. Kenny's name showed on the screen, and Butters answered with a meek, "Hullo?"

"(Everyone's gone to bed. Did you confront him yet?)" Kenny asked, his voice shrouded in wind that made his muffled voice even harder to hear over the phone.

"I-it's just it's so late and all and everyone's gone on to bed and I... Kenny? Where are you?" As he asked this, Butters turned around on his bed and looked out his window. Scanning the ground, he found Kenny leaning flat against the house under his bedroom window so that he was nearly out of sight. Kenny stepped forward and gave a short acknowledging wave.

"(It's cause it's so late and you've not called. I thought I'd check up on you.)" He decided not to mention just how long he had been waiting.

Butters slumped against the window sill. "Gee Kenny. I was thinkin'... Maybe I shouldn't go through with this after all. I mean, I don't know the first thing about blackmailin'. And I might just end up makin' the situation worse."

"(Oh no. You're not chickening out of this now. You were so eager at school today! Don't back out now! Do you want me to come up there? I'll beat the shit out of him and call the cops.)" After five seconds of no response, Kenny looked at his phone to see that the call had been disconnected. He looked up to the window, lights still on but curtain falling into place from having just been pulled.

"You really are growing up staying up this late," Bud said as he closed the door. Butters pushed his phone under the covers and scooted forward so that his legs dangled off the side of the bed.

"I was about to go to sleep."

Bud walked slowly closer to the bed, and his eyes fell on the camera beside Butters. "What's that?" he asked as he reached for it.

"Nothing," Butters said, covering it with his whole body. Under Bud's accusing stare, Butters rose up with the camera held tightly to his chest. "Well actually... I kinda... kinda wanted to show you somethin'." With shaking legs, Butters carried the camera to his computer, plugging in the wires and keeping it in his hand as the media player popped up on the screen. He remained standing so that Bud could take the chair. Instead, he stood on the other side of it. Butters swallowed hard, knowing that he needed to push onward. Kenny was outside waiting and his uncle had already seen the camera now. "I just wanted you to know that you shouldn't touch me anymore, because I'll show my mom and dad this." With that bold statement (though not as authoritative as it was in Butters' head), Butters pushed play. Bud watched the awkwardly angled and dark video with widening eyes. There was no audio, but the video was clear enough to show Butters' head being forced by Bud's distinctly large and rounded fingers.

"What the Hell is this?" Bud snapped, reaching for the camera. Butters quickly jerked it away, disconnecting it from the wires. "Do you think this is a game? Show that to anybody and I go to jail. Give it to me."

"N-no," Butters squeaked, backing up toward his bed.

"Give it to me!" Bud roared, stepping up to Butters so fast that he fell onto his bed. Bud's brow folded over his raised eye lids so that he was glaring with huge eyes. His broad frown twitched at the corner as he bared his teeth. Butters could hear him breathing quickly from anger and fear. Bud lunged forward, grabbing the bed in one hand and the camera in the other, nearly jerking it out of Butters hand except that Butters stood up and pulled the camera to himself again. "This isn't a game, you little shit!"

Butters had never heard his uncle use language in such a fierce way, and the name actually stung and shook him. Bud was shaking noticeably more though. Butters could only give his head a small, fast shake. Bud grabbed his leg, and in fear Butters pulled the knife from behind his back and held it straight out in front of himself with the camera tucked under one arm.

"What are you gonna cut me?" Bud asked still with that terrified grin, but not because of the knife. Butters knew that he was not physically a threat, which was a disheartening fact. Bud stepped onto the bed, immediately towering over Butters once more, and jolted his hands toward the camera. Butters gave a meager swipe with the knife, leaving a mark barely bigger than a paper cut that grew only because Bud flung his arm out and knocked the knife out of Butters' hand and onto the bed. A drip of blood trailed from the middle of Bud's forearm to above his wrist before stopping there. Butters let out another squeak, gripping the camera under his armpit with both hands. Unable to get a good grip on it, Bud pushed Butters into the wall, slamming him against his window and making him ease his grip. When Bud managed to slip his hand under one of Butters', Butters rammed his knee into Bud's groin, causing him to stumble backwards loudly onto the floor where he soothed himself for a moment.

Butters panted and stared at his work. Then, he looked to the knife on the bed and reached for it, only for Bud to clasp his hand around the handle first. Butters gasped when Bud rose back onto the bed and pressed him firmly against the window again, this time with the knife held upright in front of his face. Butters slammed his hand against his window, trying to knock the curtain to the side to get Kenny's attention. When the curtain wouldn't move, he submitted to beating his hand as best he could against the glass.

Kenny's eyes had not left that window, so when he suddenly saw the curtain press hard against it and flutter around, he worried about what was happening. Then he saw Butters' hand smack the glass. It did so rapidly, smacking and sliding sometimes halfway on the curtain and sometimes completely out of sight, but he was smacking the glass desperately. Kenny's body tensed, but he was unsure of what to do, whether he should run inside or call the cops or climb up the side of the house. He knew he needed to do something, but his body locked in place.

"Kenny!" he heard Butters scream from inside his room. Kenny clenched his fists and leapt onto the downspout that ran beside the window.

Butters did not know why he had called out to Kenny and not somebody in the house. Still, he had been loud enough for them to hear, and Bud knew it. He slapped his hand over Butters' mouth and whispered a harsh and foaming, "Shut up!" For a moment, the two stayed in frozen silence. Bud could hear the family stirring in the other rooms, and he knew what could happen if they came to check on them now. He didn't know what to do, and it is when people don't know what to do that they make brash and unintelligent decisions. Still with his hand over Butters' mouth, he wrapped his arm around his nephew's back and lifted him under his arm.

When Butters felt himself being roughly pulled off of his feet, he yelled out into Bud's hand. Bud covered his nose to muffle him more, and Butters tried to shake his head free for a breath. He kicked and wiggled as best he could, but Bud was much stronger than him. He carried Butters out of the room and down the stairs. Butters could see that look of furious terror on his face, as though he were spewing curses without even opening his mouth.

Kenny reached the window quickly, as though he still had some Mysterion left in him; but when he pushed the window open and looked in, nobody was there. "(Butters?)" he called. The lights were still on and the door was open, but the hallway was pitch black. He heard the dinging of an open car door. Looking down, he saw Bud shoving Butters into his car from the driver's side before getting in himself and closing the door. Kenny turned his head between the house and the car, not sure if he needed to go in or if he needed to stay with Butters. Telling his parents was what Kenny had wanted to do from the start and was the most mature action to take, but he refused to leave Butters alone in a car with that man. Kenny tore his hood from his head and yelled out, "He's got Butters!"

The car's engine started, and Kenny turned to it with a gasp. The car backed into the road fast, and Kenny was sure they were going to get away until it stopped suddenly in the road.

Bud turned to Butters in the passenger seat (Butters still hugging the camera to himself) and stared at him as if he expected him say what they were supposed to do next. Then Bud turned back to the steering wheel and smacked his palms against it several times. "Shit. Shit. Shit," he spat. Butters sank into the seat, trembling and wishing that he had just gone to bed. Bud shook his head and pressed down on the gas. Just as they took off, something thumped hard against the car as if they had hit something large enough to shake it. "Fuck," Bud said, refusing to look back at anything he might have run over.

Kenny panted and trembled when he leapt onto the top of the car. He was surprised that he had made it without fatally injuring himself, but now he was scrambling to get a good grip as the car sped forward. His eyes were wide and tears streamed out of the corners from riding through the freezing wind. He was terrified that he might fly off and die. He wanted to close his eyes and ball up to escape the frightening situation as much as possible, but he had to watch where they were going. He had to keep Butters safe. And if he could, he was going do everything in his power to live through the night long enough to beat the shit out of Bud.


End file.
